
ELIZABETH JONES BOYKIN 





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UNCLE ABE’S MISS CA’LINE 





Uncle Abes Miss Caline 


By Elizabeth Jones Boykin 



BOSTON 

THE ROXBURGH PUBLISHING COMPANY, INC. 








Copyright, 1923 

The Roxburgh Publishing Company, Inc. 
Rights Reserved 


» * 

* t * 


JAN -7 1924 


CONTENTS 


Preface . 7 

Chapter I . 11 

Chapter II . 41 

Chapter III . 62 

Chapter IV . 84 

Chapter V . 106 

Chapter VI . 114 

Chapter VII . 131 










PREFACE 


“Uncle Abe’s Miss Ca’line” is a Southern 
story, as may be judged by its title. It was first 
suggested to the mind of the writer several years 
ago, when she attended the initial meeting of 
The Woman’s League of Southern Writers. 

The characters are counterparts of those she 
has known and loved. The small cities or towns 
of the South (unlike the small towns of the Far 
West or the East) are often centers of culture 
and refinement; and some of our noblest men 
and women have come from just such unpreten¬ 
tious beginnings. 

Now and then we find in these semi-urban 
centers a suggestion of the ideal community, the 
blacks still retaining something of their former 
reverence and love for the white family; and, on 


8 


Preface 


the other hand, the whites holding in their hearts 
a tenderness for them, and often depending upon 
them for sympathy and encouragement in the 
various trials of life. 

Uncle Abe and Aunt Dinah are composite 
characters, or rather types of the old negroes who 
are rapidly passing away. The author had in her 
own family two such dear old negroes, and in the 
death scene of Uncle Abe has reproduced the 
death of one of these faithful friends, whose 
memory still lingers tenderly in her heart. 

There is a vein of humor running through the 
story which is brought out in these negro char¬ 
acters. 

Caroline is a true type of heroine we fre¬ 
quently meet with in the South. Of noble lineage, 
coming from one of the oldest and best families, 
she has the blood of heroes in her veins; and, 
when the test comes, rises above her environment 


Preface 


9 


and her training to the sublime heights of a true 
soldier, willing to die battling rather than to fail 
in her most sacred duties and obligations. 

In writing this story, the author several times 
forgot that she needed food, and came near for¬ 
getting that she needed to rest and to sleep. She 
trusts that others may feel a little of the same 
thrill of joy and enthusiasm in reading it, that 
she felt in the writing. 


The Author. 


* 


CHAPTER I 


“Say dar, Abe! you nigger, jes wake up, an’ 
listen to dis most stoundin’ piece ob news whut 
I is got to tell yer. Whut’yer lyin’ in heare fur 
wid yer mouf wide open, er sleepin’ an’ er snorin’ 
—Mr. Ben, he done bin out heare to see me—” 

“Well, I guess he axed whar I wus, Dinah,” 
said Uncle Abe. 

“Yere, he did; an’ I did ’low to come in, an’ 
woke you up, but dat news whut he tells me, wus 
so turrible dat it j is took all de sense outen my 
head.” 

Aunt Dinah was always fond of keeping Uncle 
Abe on the qui vive in regard to any news or 
happenings she had gathered up. Now she stopped 
and shook her head (tied up with its red ban¬ 
danna), changed irons—she was ironing, and 


12 Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 

ironing out in front of her cabin door, for who 
ever heard of an old black auntie who was not 
ironing. She stirred the fire in front of the iron 
she had just been using, then putting the other 
down on the end of the board, looked at her 
husband with her most solemn and mysterious air. 

“Well! whut wus dat news, Dinah?—can’t 
yer talk—er standin’ dar wid yer eyes all er 
rollin ’aroun’.” 

“Ef you’ll quit er talkin’ yer own black self 

er minit, I’ll tells yer. He says as to how Miss 

Ca’line, she hab done come back frum Californy, 

case her husman, Mars Ames, hab done gone an’ 

died; she done come back to her par, Mars 

Robert, an’ to de ole home; and he do say as dat 

day want me an’ you to go back to de ole place 

an’ wait on Miss Ca’line, an’ help to raise dem 

pore little chillun, whut aint got any par no 
>> 


more. 


Uncle Abe’s Aliss Ca line 


13 


“I jist aint er gwine,” said Uncle Abe, “I aint 
er gwine to quit dis heare land o’ mine; an’ sides 
dat I is gettin’ too ole to start to raisin’ white 
chillun agin. I done raise (dat is you an’ me, 
Dinah) all Mars Robert’s—Mister Ben, an’ Miss 
Ca’line, an’ Miss Bessie, an’ dem two oldest boys 
whut went off Norf somewhars an’ died—I is 
too ole fur dat; an’ sides I aint er gwine to go 
way frum dis heare farm whut I owns, fur I is 
beginnin’ to feel rale ’spectable, jist like white 
folks.” 

“Well! nigger, you can stay out heare ef yer 
wanter, but I tells yer I aint er gwine to stay 
out heare wid yer, on dis pore little piece o’ 
groun’. I am er gwine right back to my white 
folks, whar I will be ’spectable—I knows dat’s 
quality an’ ’spectable—you’s lookin’ ’spectable er 
livin’ outen heare on dis ole groun’ whut won’t 
even sprout peas; an’ den you calls hit er farm.” 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


H 

Here Aunt Dinah stopped long enough to give 
rise to a laugh of derision, under which Uncle 
Abe wilted, then continued: 

“I tells yer, Abe, jist as shore as Mister Ben 
come back outen heare an’ say dat Miss Ca’line 
is er waitin’ fur me, den I’se er gwine—you kin 
jist stay outen heare by yer own black sef.” 

“Now, Dinah gal, you knows I’se er gwine 
wid yer. Whar you goes I is boun’ to follow; 
I jist jokin’ er little; I don’t kere nuffin ’bout dis 
place no ways.” 

Conjugal peace having been restored, Dinah 
continued: 

“Mister Ben say dat Miss Ca’line’s heart is 
a’most broke in two. I shore do feels sorry fur 
pore Miss Ca’line er habin’ all dis trubble, an’ 
den she er bein’ so young an’ tender like. He 
say she hab got de sweetest chillun he ebber see.” 

A week later, Aunt Dinah and Uncle Abe 


JJncle Abes Miss C a line 


15 


were installed in their quarters at the old home, 
a most beautiful, old colonial place situated in the 
suburbs of one of the very cultured towns in our 
Southland. 

“Say dar! Abe! you nigger, hurry dar, an’ 
make dat fire, case I got to git dis brekfast quick; 
don’t yer knows dat Mars Robert nebber could 
ford to wait fur he brekfus?” 

So Uncle Abe made the fire in a hurry, urged 
on by Aunt Dinah, while she commenced break¬ 
fast in good earnest. 

Her kitchen was clean and she herself was 
clean, looking wholesome enough with a perfectly 
spotless blue checked cotton apron on, and a very 
white head-rag tied down all over her black wool¬ 
ly head; and her deep brown face (about the 
color of rich brown coffee) shining and beaming 
with the importance and pleasure of cooking once 
more for her white folks. When the breakfast 


16 Uncle Abes Miss C a line 

was finally ready she served it in the breakfast 
room, situated at the extreme end of the long 
porch. 

She had to walk the entire length of this porch 
from the kitchen, which was built about five or 
six feet out from the house; but Aunt Dinah did 
not mind that, and as she carried in the waffles 
of a beautiful golden brown, she felt that she was 
back in her rightful place once more. It was a 
very pleasant-looking breakfast room, with three 
low windows, the western one looking out over 
the river; and from the other two could be seen 
the orchard and further on into the woodland. 
Grapevines and honey-suckles trailed their ten¬ 
drils about over the porch and windows; roses 
grew in lavish profusion everywhere. 

At the table were seated the entire family. 
Col. Robert Harmon, a most noble-looking old 
gentleman, sat at the head and by his side Miss 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


17 


Bessie, his baby girl, so like her mother who had 
long since passed “over the river”. 

Mr. Ben, young and handsome, sat on the 
other side; and at the opposite end of the table 
was seated Mrs. Ames (Miss Ca’line), his oldest 
child, so recently bereaved of her husband, with 
her three children all grouped about her—Frank, 
Charlie, and her baby girl, Cappie. 

The meal was rather a sorrowful one, but 
Colonel Harmon was so determined to lighten 
his daughter Carolines sorrow and to bring a 
little good cheer into her heart, that with his 
bright, cheerful manner, he finally succeeded. 
The children, effervescing with childish happi¬ 
ness, said such funny quaint things about fishing 
in the creek and about the dogs and chickens and 
other things at “Grandpa’s Place”, that it brought 
a little merriment into the faces of all. 

Frank said: “Aunt Dinah, how did you get 
these funny little holes into these fritters?” 


18 Uncle A be s Miss Caline 

“Hush, chile, dey aint no fritters; dey is 
woffles.” At this everyone was compelled to 
laugh. 

Aunt Dinah had been trained that it was not 
polite to speak while waiting on the table, but 
she said to herself:— 

“I shore is gwine to ax Miss Ca’line, jist as 
soon as dis here brekfus is over, if dat chile aint 
nebber had no woffles buffo, no wonder,—case 
his par wus one uv dem northern men—speck dat 
chile bin er livin’ on dat ole cold light bread all 
he days. Reckin’ he aint nebber had no rale 
shore ’nough cookin’ yit—but nebber mind, 
Dinah’ll fix him.” 

The boys brightened up the old home with 
their boyish pranks and merry laughter. Uncle 
Abe took great delight in his white folks’ chil¬ 
dren again—if he did say he was getting too old 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


19 


for that. He and the two boys, Frank and 
Charlie, became fast friends, and more, real gen¬ 
uine chums—for Uncle Abe was to them a real 
sure enough hero, though ebony-hued. 

One morning he took them fishing, as he had 
been promising to do for some time. They started 
off quite early, Uncle Abe urging them to hurry 
up all the time: 

“Come on, boys, dem fish won’t bite ef we 
don’t git dar early, specks dey is already gone to 
de bottom ob de creek to take a nap by dis time.” 

Frank and Charlie came running up with their 
fishing rods over their shoulders, and their bait 
in an old tin oyster can. They all three started 
off in considerable haste, Uncle Abe leading the 
way, an old straw hat with part of the 1 brim 
gone, pulled down over his black kinks—and an 
old blue cotton shirt on, with shoes run down at 
the heels. He just chuckled and grinned, and 


20 


Uncle Abes Miss Caline 


shook himself as he went along, the boys follow¬ 
ing close on his heels. 

“Uncle Abe,” said Frank, “you reckon any 
rabbits live down here in these thickets and 
bushes?” 

“Shore, chile, I specks dare is one right now 
all scrooged up er lyin’ low as we be passin’ by.” 

“Well, where is brudder fox that you told me 
and Charlie about last night—does he live down 
here anywhere? Stop, Uncle Abe, I believe I 
see him over there behind that tree.” 

“Come on, boys, dar aint no foxes dare. Foxes, 
dem whut I tole yer er ’bout lives way over 
yonder in dem Georgia hills an’ mount’ens— 
shore, chile, he might er bin heare last night er 
lookin’ fer a hen-roost, an’ den by miornin’ a bin 
er hundred miles away. I speck he wus heare, 
sence I thinkt er bout it, I believe I hear Dinah 
say dat she saw de tract uv er fox out dare close 


Uncle Abe’s Miss Ca’line 


21 


by de henery dis mornin’. I specks dat wus dat 
berry ole sinner whut I wus er tellin’ you boys 
er bout yistiddy.” 

As they entered the deep, shady wood, Charlie 
said: “Aint it nice and cool down here, Frank. 
I wish mother would let us live down here; we 
could stay in a tent like Indians; and Uncle Abe 
would be the big Indian to fight for us.” 

“Shure, boy, I aint er gwine to stay in no 
woods in de night—don’t yer know dat hants 
trabbels er bout in de night time down in de 
w T oods—an’ panters an’ bears an’ all sich?” 

By that time they had reached the banks of the 
little stream in which they were to fish. Sud¬ 
denly Uncle Abe exclaimed: 

“Law, Charlie, ef I don’t believe I heare 
Dinah er callin me—I ’clare to de gracious I 
plum forgit to tote in dat wood an’ water—dar 
honey, let me fix dat hook fur yer—here it am 
wid dis big fat worm er wigglin’ on de end.” 


22 


Uncle Abe s Miss Cdline 


“Uncle Abe, don’t that hurt that worm to be 
stuck on the end of that sharp hook so hard?” 
said Frank. 

“No, boy, it do not; no more dan a onion— 
only we eats de onion, and de fish—well,” and 
here Uncle Abe scratched his head in some per¬ 
plexity, “well, he eats some ob de worm.” 

“I thought that as he wiggled so, and drew 
himself up in a knot, and then stretched out as 
far as he could again, that it must be hurting 
him,” insisted Frank. 

“Well, it do not,” said Uncle Abe, “you jis 
go on an’ hab yore fun—case I heare Mister Ben 
say, when he fus come home frum de college, dat 
unless you hab er brain yer can’t feel er single 
ache—now dat worm, he aint got no brains, fur 
he aint got no head—nuffin’ but a mouf stuck 
onto de back ob he neck; an’ whar be he brains? 


Uncle Abe’s Miss Ca line 


n 

You know yer got to hab er head to hold yore 
brains in.” 

After a long pause, all three watching their 
hooks closely, Charlie broke the silence: 

“Uncle Abe, have I got any brains?” 

“Lawd a mercy, boy, whut yer talk dat way 
fur?” 

“I don’t know”, returned Charlie, “only I 
thought if I didn’t have any brains, maybe I 
would not feel the hurt when they pull this 
tooth out of my head, which mother said I must 
have done soon.” 

“Oh! go way frum heare—whut yer keep on 
talkin’ fur jist like a loon (as Dinah say). Ob 
course, Charlie, you hab got brains, an’ dat tooth 
’s gwine to hurt bad when dey pull hit out— 
look, dar! quick—see dat fish er pullin’—grab it 
up, boys! pull!—pull hard!” 

Uncle Abe ran to Charlie, and taking the rod 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


into his hands, pulled out a large perch and 
landed him on the bank; at this the boys shouted 
and jumped about in wild delight. They re¬ 
mained for about an hour longer, and caught a 
very nice lot of fish, which Uncle Abe strung on 
the proverbial forked switch from some near-by 
tree; then he said that he surely did hear Dinah 
calling him to fetch her in some wood and water. 

So they trudged along back through the wood, 
and down by the edge of the swamp, which 
looked so big and gloomy in its deep, shady, 
mysterious depths that Frank and Charlie were 
sure that wild Indians must be living in there. 

“Come on, boys, dey aint no Injuns a livin’ 
in dar; dey aint no more Injuns; dey is all dead 
I most believes, case I aint nebber seed any.” 

Charlie, the younger of the two boys, lagging 
behind, scratched his face with a limb, and be¬ 
gan to cry, so Uncle Abe stopped and took him 


Uncle Abes Miss Calint 


25 


up on his back. They reached home in time for 
Uncle Abe to receive a good scolding from Aunt 
Dinah. 

She said, “Here Mr. Ben done come home an’ 
er talkin’ bout er gwine off to de Cujan war de 
bery next day—I declare to de gracious, Abe, I 
nebber is heared uv so many ’stoundin’ things er 
happenin’ at onct. Don’t none uv ’em want Mr. 
Ben to go; but I hear him say dat he shore wus 
er gwine; said dat he ’spected to start early in 
de mornin’.” 

In the house it was just as she had said; they 
were all in great sorrow at the departure of Ben 
for the army, which was to leave Chattanooga in 
a few days. Ben was captain of a company of 
volunteers and he expected to move out with 
them in the early dawn. 

The next morning they all went to the station 
to see them off, even down to Frank and little 


26 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


Charlie; all except Colonel Robert, but he said 
that as he did not feel well he thought that he 
had better remain at home. 

Several months passed away, and it seemed 
their mail was lost, for they never heard from 
Ben at all. 

The war waged, the great battle of the charge 
up the San Juan hill was fought, the sinking of 
the Merrimac startled the nation into loud ap¬ 
plause and wild admiration for its daring heroes; 
but still so strange, they failed to receive any 
news whatsoever from Ben. 

About the first of October a dreadful sorrow 
overtook the household: Colonel Robert fell dead 
from his chair in the library. Caroline and Bes¬ 
sie were overwhelmed with their grief, but Caro¬ 
line felt the necessity of bearing up under it, 
realizing that now all responsibility was resting 
upon her. 


JJncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


27 


Aunt Dinah, out in the kitchen, wailed in loud 
lamentations: “O Lawd, whut will we do now— 
nobody left to take care uv dem pore chillun 
but me an’ ole black Abe—Mars Robert dead 
an’ Mr. Ben gone off to de war, an’ I bin er 
thinkin’, he done got shot—O Lawd, whut will 
we do—whut will we do?” She wailed and 
moaned with her apron over her head: “Me an’ 
Abe is dar only ’pendence now.” 

“Well, Dinah, ef dey aint got nobody but us, 
we’s er gwine to do our bestis fur ’em; we’s 
not gwine to desart ’em now,” said Uncle Abe. 

“No, nebber, but I shore is stressed, Abe,” 
sobbed Aunt Dinah. 

It is forever a fact that troubles never come 
singly: “First a shadow then a sorrow, till the 
air is dark with anguish,” so the poet hath said. 
This young mother, so recently bereaved of her 
husband, and now she and her younger sister, 


28 


Uncle Abe's Miss Online 


almost overwhelmed by the death of their father, 
were to be subjected to still another sorrow, 
which they scarcely expected. It had never once 
occurred to Caroline or Bessie either that they 
would have to give up their dear old home. 

The week after they had buried Colonel Ro¬ 
bert, his lawyer, Mr. Graves, came out to see 
them and to read the will to them. Caroline 
did not think this necessary, but still, as it was 
customary, she and Bessie went down into the 
library, where Mr. Graves was already await¬ 
ing them. He was holding in his hands the keys 
to their father’s large desk and strong box as they 
entered; and after bidding them good-morning 
most courteously, and inquiring solicitously after 
their health, he began to unlock the doors and 
inner drawers of the desk, finally coming to the 
strong iron box, took it out, and placing it upon 
the table, unlocked it in rather a dignified and 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


29 


deliberate manner. There were several other 
papers in the box besides the will, which he 
seemed to put carefully back into it, but in reali¬ 
ty he put two of them up his sleeve; then taking 
up the will began to read it in a very business¬ 
like but rather pompous manner. When he had 
finished he said, “You see that your father has 
equally divided his large estate between his living 
children and the heirs of his two dead brothers; 
with the exception of two or three minor be¬ 
quests to Uncle Abe and Aunt Dinah, and to 
some other old darkey. What shall I do? I 
offer my services to you both—shall I serve you 
as I have served your father in years past?” 

“Certainly, Mr. Graves, just do for us as you 
think best; whatever you do will surely be all 
right; I am sure that you are fully worthy of 
our perfect confidence, and we unhesitatingly 
place everything in your hands,” said Caroline. 


30 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


“Thank you, ladies, I will take great pleasure 
in attending to everything in a business way and 
most speedily.” Then gathering up the papers 
and bowing most profoundly to both, he took his 
departure. 

Mr. Graves was a man of rather small stature, 
of dull colored complexion, with hair of a gray¬ 
ish brown. To look into Mr. Graves’ eyes, it 
would be impossible to tell the color of their 
muddy depths. Mr. Graves was a man whose 
face never expressed what was going on within. 
He was a good lawyer, a shrewd one, but he 
never had a law-suit whose waters he did not 
muddy. He always took a crooked way to carry 
out his purposes; in fact he thought all the world 
was crooked in its various ways, like himself; and 
he practiced his profession accordingly. He 
aspired to being a very cultured and a very 
courtly gentleman, and also to being very pious— 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


31 


had been a Sunday school superintendent for 
more than twenty years. He being an old bache¬ 
lor of nearly fifty years, had decided to change 
his bachelorhood for the happy state of celibacy; 
and the fair one on whom he had decided to 
bestow his heart and hand was Miss Bessie. Of 
course, well knowing that he could not gain her 
hand by fair means, he made up his mind to do 
so by foul means. The week after the reading 
of the will he went out to see the sisters, osten¬ 
sibly on business. He told Dinah, as she ushered 
him into the library, that he had urgent business 
and would like to see Mrs. Ames at once. Aunt 
Dinah, as she expressed it to herself, began to 
scent trouble in the air; but nevertheless went 
slowly up stairs, and told her mistress that “Mr. 
Grabes he want to see yer on ’portant bizness, 
an’ he roll up de whites ob he ole yaller eyes in 
sich er cuyus way, dat I spicions sumpin, dat I 


32 


Uncle Abe’s Miss Ca’line 


does—I tells yer, Dinah aint no fool, ef she am 
black.” 

Caroline went down immediately, as she 
wished to show him every courtesy, not for a 
moment sharing Aunt Dinah’s suspicions. 

Hark! was that a stifled scream or groan which 
Dinah heard—“Heare, Miss Bessie, take dis 
blessed little Cappie, case I bleeged to go down 
stairs er minit.” 

So she went down stairs, and taking a tray 
from the sideboard in the dining-room with some 
fresh water upon it, went into the library, pre¬ 
tending that she thought she had heard Miss 
Ca’line ring. As she entered Caroline was stand¬ 
ing, looking at Mr. Graves with the most awful 
expression of indignation and animosity, that 
Dinah said afterwards to Abe, “Dat hit did seem 
dat Miss Ca’line shore had murder in her heart; 
an’ her face hit wus as white as er sheet, an’ her 


Uncle Abe s Miss Caline 


33 


eyes wus er blazin like de stars, an’ she look so 
high er standin right dar in front ob dat ole 
sinner—den she say to me in her most nicest 
way: ‘Aunt Dinah, jist put de tray on de table 
and leave us; our bizness is pribate,’ an’ den I 
knows dat I jist had to go out an’ leave her to 
de tender care ob dat ole no ’count, triflin’ ras- 
cul.” 

When Aunt Dinah had left them Caroline 
turned to Mr. Graves, and with all the force and 
combativeness which his communications had 
aroused within her said: 

“Go, Mr. Graves—go—if what you tell me 
is true, but I have my doubts about it—I would 
a thousand times rather go out into the world 
and work for my daily bread than to accept your 
humiliating offer—yes, take my father’s estate, 
take it all—gladly will I resign it all, rather than 
let you whisper one word of your abominable 
intentions to my precious sister, Bessie.” 


34 


Uncle Abes Miss Ca line 


A dull red glow of anger mounted up to the 
temples of the lawyer, and a gleam of malice 
flashed into his eyes as he said: 

“You will not find it so easy to earn your 
daily bread, especially as you have never been 
trained along that line. I am sure I have made 
you what anyone else would consider an honor¬ 
able way out of your difficulties. I offer my hand 
in marriage to your sister. You both are utterly 
penniless, and have never been brought up to care 
for yourselves—you will find it no easy task, in 
spite of your heroics, to—” 

“Mercy! mercy! stop—I command you to 
hush!” said Caroline. 

“I will not be silenced, I will speak,” returned 
Mr. Graves, “I have a mortgage on every dol¬ 
lar’s worth of property your father has ever 
owned, and were I to foreclose to-night you 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


35 


would not have a spot in the world to lay your 
head—what more can I do for you? Take a 
week to think about it, and if—” 

“No! no! I want no week—go now and never 
come back—I tell you I would die before I 
would yield. Go—go—out of my presence,” 
said Caroline, with uplifted hands as she pointed 
to the door. 

Mr. Graves turned on his heel, and went out 
w T ith a deadly rage in his heart at the seeming 
failure of all his scheming, and the insult (?) to 
his dignity, which he felt he had received. He 
had in his make-up the fury of the wild-cat, the 
stealthiness of the panther, and the tireless ener¬ 
gy of the Indian on the chase—woe unto those 
who should offend him. 

After he left, Caroline walked about the room 
like a wild person, throwing her hands over her 
head, then wringing them together in a perfect 


36 


Uncle Abes Miss Caline 


paroxysm of agony. “O God! I must have time 
to think, I must not let Bessie know this, I must 
calm myself—my sweet little sister to marry that 
old wretch—I would rather bury her first then 
the depth of his infamy, to say we were helpless 
and in his power—oh! the ignominy of our po¬ 
sition—but I must calm myself.’’ 

After having spent some little time in trying 
to soothe her agitation and to appear as natural 
and calm as she could, under the circumstances, 
she went upstairs to Bessie, and in as cheerful a 
manner as she could assume, broke the dreadful 
fact of the mortgage to her. Bessie had always 
leaned upon her older sister—indeed, she had been 
as much of a mother as a sister to her; so when 
Caroline told her she just wept a little, but felt 
that in some way Caroline would know what 
to do. Caroline, just then looking out at the 
window, and seeing her two little boys playing 


JJncle Abe's Aliss Ca line 


37 


and running about the lawn, then letting her 
glance fall upon her baby girl, sleeping in her 
tiny crib close by, and then at Bessie’s trusting 
pathetic face, felt somehow the battling power of 
past generations begin to swell up in her heart. 
“For these, for these, I must not falter.” But 
she felt perfectly at sea as to how to start or 
how to take hold of the very complex problem 
before her. Like all Southern men, her father 
had thought it was not at all essential for girls 
to know anything about business, that a woman 
should be shielded and protected; so she had been 
brought up in total ignorance of even the most 
common forms of the law. Indeed she had never 
looked over a mortgage, a deed, or a note in her 
life; and had not the remotest idea how they 
should be written, or how they should be drawn 
up. It would be hardly credible to our practical 
women of to-day, the total ignorance of all busi- 


38 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


ness matters and legal documents which enveloped 
Caroline’s mind. She did not think it necessary, 
or even care to look over her father’s papers; if 
she had she would probably have been none the 
wiser. She had always had a sort of hazy idea 
about such things; had always trusted such to her 
father, and later to her husband; then in the 
absence of these, to Mr. Graves, and since he 
had proven himself utterly false and base, was as 
much at sea as a ship without a rudder. 

She began to study and to turn over in her 
mind her various accomplishments and resources 
with a view to earning a livelihood thereby. She 
was somewhat of an artist, at least she had 
studied plaster work and art at college; and was 
also a musician of no mean ability—had even 
been considered as having a fine voice. As she 
went carefully over all these, and tried to plan 
and think what she should do, she turned from 


Uncle Abe's Miss Co'line 


39 


it all, and went down stairs to find Uncle Abe 
and Aunt Dinah to break the awful news to 
them, and to gain a little sympathy and comfort 
from them, and maybe some advice. To say that 
the two old negroes were astonished at the dread¬ 
ful news would be putting it quite mildly; for 
they were, indeed, nearly distracted—oh, how 
their hearts did ache for “Mars Robert’s pore 
chilun”. 

But Caroline was comforted by their devotion 
and sympathy. After talking to them and pray¬ 
ing over the matter earnestly, she finally decided 
to write to Mr. Graves, to give her a few weeks’ 
time before the foreclosure of the mortgage. 
Uncle Abe said: 

“Dar ain’t no tellin’ whut moughtn’t happen 
in dat time; de good Lawd mought open up er 
way fur us all to stay right heare, whar we all 
jist natu’ly belongs—any ways I’se er gwine to 
ax Him, I is.” 


40 


JJncle Abe’s Miss Caline 


In the meantime, Caroline received a letter 
from Mr. Graves, in answer to hers, which was 
so patronizing that it made her very blood boil, 
saying that he would gladly wait a month, if she 
so desired. 

Now it had come to the latter part of the last 
week, of this month of probation; and still Caro¬ 
line was undecided as to just what course to 
pursue. She had an undeveloped plan of going 
to the city, and of renting some little cottage out 
in the suburbs; and with Aunt Dinah and Uncle 
Abe, go into the truck gardening business. 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


41 


CHAPTER II 

It was a glorious, golden afternoon in October, 
when, with a heavy heart Caroline strolled about 
the park and grounds of the dear old home. She 
wanted to be all alone, and to bid good-bye, so 
to speak, to all the dear scenes. Oh! how hard 
it was to go out into the world and fight life’s 
battles by herself; and wherever she would turn 
in her deep thinking, she would be expecting her 
father or her husband to somehow reach back 
and guide her and help her. 

<( Oh! if they only could, if they only could,” 
she said to herself. 

She sat down under a broad and lofty oak, 
whose crimson and yellow leaves were falling and 
drifting all about her. The birds were singing 
in the trees and the squirrels were frisking about, 


42 


JJncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


gathering a nut here and there, for their winter 
store. She sat and listened to the soft sighing of 
the evening breeze, till the sun went down in 
golden splendor, and the stars came softly out, 
one by one, in the sky up above. She dreamed 
in pensive meditation of the young husband, 
sleeping so far away on the western slope, where 
the shore is washed by the majestic Pacific in 
thunderous breakers throughout the livelong day, 
and then far into the night. 

“Oh! if he could come back,” she whispered. 
“Am I sleeping and this some horrible dream, 
from which I shall awaken later to all the sweet 
things of living, and happy surroundings which 
make life a joy? Is it true that I am penniless 
in the world, with no one to turn to, or to lean 
upon; and that I must leave this, the home of 
my childhood?—I can’t, I must cling to it or 
something—O my Lord, I would rather lie down 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


43 


here in the leaves and die, than to go forth, not 
knowing whither I must go.” 

But the thought of her children strengthened 
her. She knelt down in the leaves and buried 
her face in her arms on the seat in front of her; 
directly she was startled by a foot-fall, but look¬ 
ing up saw that it was only Uncle Abe approach¬ 
ing in the twilight. They had become uneasy 
about her in the house and had sent him to call 
her to the evening meal, which had been waiting 
for her for some time. 

Caroline went the next day to see another 
friend of her father’s, Judge Linden—with the 
vague hope that he might be able to help her. 

Judge Linden was a man of the highest sense 
of honor and of faultless integrity; believing that 
it were far better to die by one’s principles, than 
to live to repudiate them. His very presence 
calmed and soothed her, even before she had told 


44 


Uncle Abe s Miss Ca line 


him of all her troubles and difficulties. He ad¬ 
vised her and directed her in the best course to 
pursue, cheerfully becoming her lawyer without 
compensation; and right nobly did he bend him¬ 
self to the task. He thought it very strange that 
a man of Colonel Harmon’s ability and loyalty 
to his family would leave his affairs in such a 
state, and he entertained very grave suspicions 
of the lawyer, Mr. Graves; but still, after the 
most diligent search through all Colonel Har¬ 
mon’s private papers, which Mr. Graves very 
courteously permitted him to do, he could find 
nothing upon which to base his suspicions. The 
mortgage really covered about everything, but 
he managed in one way and another to save out 
of the wreck of her father’s vast estate about a 
thousand dollars for her. He even was so kind 
and considerate as to go to the city, and select 
and rent for her a neat little cottage out in a 
pleasant suburb. 


Uncle Abe’s Miss Caline 


45 


Bessie had, a few days before, gone to New 
York, in accordance with an invitation from her 
uncle, their mother’s only brother, who had 
written that he would be glad to give his niece 
a home with him; and Caroline thought that she 
must go, at least for awhile. 

So on the last day of October, the most glori¬ 
ous month of all the year to her, she left the 
home of her fathers, and started out into that 
which, to her, was a totally unknown world. 
The sympathy and friendship of Judge Linden 
was a great prop to her, and a comfort—indeed, 
it followed her throughout all the weeks and 
months of struggle, which lay before her. 

She and her little family were finally installed 
in their tiny home in a strange city. As she 
arranged the small cottage and tried to make it 
take on the appearance of home, she would, in 


46 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


spite of all her efforts to prevent them, shed a 
few tears behind the door or in the corner, where 
her children and Uncle Abe and Aunt Dinah 
could not see her. They all struggled and 
worked together with right good will till really 
the little house looked quite comfortable and 
homelike. But Caroline was so homesick that 
if it had not been that she had her dear old 
family negroes with her, she felt sometimes that 
she would have given up and died. The children 
were so bright and merry, she wondered if they 
knew of the heartache she so carefully hid away 
down deep in her heart. 

On the first Sunday night, she called all her 
little family about her and kneeling down of¬ 
fered up a plea for divine help and protection; 
then, when Frank and Charlie were asleep and 
she had rocked and sung to her baby, and had 
tucked her away in her little crib, she felt she 


Uncle Abe*s Miss Ca line 


47 


could have a few moments to herself and to write 
to Bessie. She could hear various sounds, high 
and low, coming from the room beyond the 
kitchen, where Uncle Abe and Aunt Dinah were 
domiciled; and she knew by these that they also 
were sleeping. She sat down by the table and 
began writing to her sister: 

“Dear Bessie, I wish I could see you, but you 
are so far away from me, I just feel like you are 
almost lost to me. Everything is so strange to 
me, and so different from what I have ever 
known, that I am bewildered at times. I am 
always turning around at every corner of my 
mind (so to speak), expecting my husband or 
our father to come up on the other side and help 
me. I am weary just dragging the burden—I 
don’t carry it at all, I only can drag it. Diet go 
at times, and standing helplessly aside, contem¬ 
plate and look at it; then in my bewilderment 


48 


Uncle Abe’s Miss Ca line 


I gather it up in a hurry, lest my courage fail 
me, and start again on my way. 

“You remember that I have often told you 
that my voice teacher at college used to say that 
I had a very fine voice; and that if the time ever 
came when I must do for myself, there was surely 
a way for me there—I little dreamed that the 
time would ever come. I have decided to hunt 
up my old teacher and study awhile, and then 
make a most earnest effort to get a position in 
some church. 

“Frank and Charlie and little Cappie want to 
see Aunt Bessie, and so does their mother— 
most woefully. If I could just weep a little in 
your presence I think it would help and relieve 
the tension of my nerves—but this cannot be, and 
I must not let my children see me break down, 
nor Uncle Abe nor Aunt Dinah either. So good¬ 
night, my dear little sister.” 


Uncle Abes Miss Caline 


49 


Caroline in a short while hunted up her former 
voice teacher, and began in great earnestness to 
study. He was delighted to have her again and 
encouraged her greatly. In fact he became very 
enthusiastic about her voice. She did not tell 
him of all her misfortunes, only a part of them. 
Little did he know that her success meant bread 
and shelter for herself and three little children, 
nor how each dollar was most carefully planned 
out, nor how often she walked for lack of the 
nickel to ride; nor did he know how often she 
went almost hungry, making a study of the most 
nutritious dishes out of the least money. Neither 
did he know how, in the still hours of the night, 
she would fight out her battle for faith and hope. 

“Hope I must have/’ she would say to herself; 
“courage will ever remain, if I never let hope 
die; but, oh! if I let hope once die in my bosom, 
then down—down into what an abyss I shall 


50 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


tumble. Hope—radiant hope—beautiful hope! 
abide with me; I can not grapple with my bur¬ 
den, I can not grasp a single promise, I can not 
touch my Lord in prayer, if thou shouldst flee 
from me.” 

Caroline of necessity lived a very solitary life. 
Poverty and her sorrow shut her in like a pall; 
and she and her little family were as much alone 
in that great city as if they were indeed living in 
a desert. She sent Frank and Charlie to the 
public school; and of course Cappie was Aunt 
Dinah’s special charge, while her mother was 
attending her lessons or practicing at home. 

Nature had bestowed upon Caroline a magnifi¬ 
cent physique, and a wonderful power of endur¬ 
ance, and how gladly did she pour out her 
strength in the struggle of life for her children. 
To maintain a home and to make it bright and 
happy was her highest aim and ambition—to 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


5i 


make that home to suggest heaven, and she her¬ 
self a faint intimation of the divine love (she 
knew that it was only possible for mortal beings 
to faintly suggest that love) was the deepest 
longing and yearning of her heart. 

Throughout the winter she worked with right 
good-will and courage with her voice, and made 
such fine progress that her teacher was able to 
procure for her a position in one of the leading 
churches of the city. 

At first the pay was quite small, but in a short 
while they increased it considerably, as they re¬ 
alized her marvelous power to draw and hold 
her audience by the spell of her voice. She 
rapidly came to the front, manifesting to the 
public beyond a doubt that she was a genius of 
no mean ability; and was sought out and sought 
for everywhere. But she pursued the even tenor 
of her way, living her simple life with and for 


52 


Uncle Abes Miss C a line 


her children. She wrote to her sister of her 
great success: 

“Dear Bessie: I have conquered, thank God. 
Success is sweet, so sweet, especially when that 
success means a home for three little tots who 
are a part and parcel of one’s very being. 

“Ah! Bessie, when I stand up in front of that 
large audience, and begin to sing, when I pour 
forth the melody and pathos and deep yearning 
tenderness that floods my own soul, and when 
I see that I can and do play upon their heart¬ 
strings, like the violinist does upon his instrument, 
touching them with sympathy, thrilling them 
with courage, inspiring them with a mighty hope, 
I do indeed feel that I am akin to the angels. 
Last Sunday night I sang ‘Holy Night’ and ‘One 
Sweetly Solemn Thought’—O Bessie, to know 
that I am doing this great work, as well as 
earning my bread, gives me a feeling of exalta- 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


53 


tion and grandeur. I wonder if the feeling I 
have in my heart is wrong—do you think it is? 

“After the services were over a great many 
came up to me, and thanked me and praised my 
singing; and one dear woman, who looked poor 
and broken, just held my hand in hers and said 
such sweet things to me that I could not help 
but cry. Ah, Bessie, I can readily believe our 
ancestry hewed down the primeval forests, fought 
with the wild beasts of the American continent, 
and engaged in deadly combat with the Indians; 
for I feel the strength of former generations 
swelling up in my soul, and the purpose to con¬ 
quer or die beats high within my heart and 
surges through my veins. 

“Do you know this fight I am fighting, and 
this great burden I am carrying, is revealing 
myself unto myself? I never knew before what 
profound depths of thought and feeling lay sleep- 


54 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


ing within the secret chambers of my being; but 
they are sleeping no longer. My other self, that 
sweet, trusting, clinging self, that leaned on 
father and husband, I have carefully hidden 
away in the most secret chamber of my inner 
consciousness; and while I know that I am re¬ 
ceding and being borne on the crest of circum¬ 
stances farther and farther away, still I go back 
occasionally, and entering into this chamber, hold 
sweet communion with that other self. I have 
tried to feel independent, and I do act with a 

good deal of initiatiVe; but really there has not 

« 

been a moment, when down deep in my heart I 
have not been sighing for my husband’s presence; 
for you know it is a woman’s way, and it is God’s 
way too, for us to lean on some one stronger 
than ourselves. It is natural for a woman to 
long for this, and that which is nature’s way is 
God’s way; for what is nature but the finger of 


55 


% 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 

God Working out in plastic mould His vast plans 
and beneficent purposes. Love and an affection¬ 
ate hug to my precious little sister.” 

About a month after this Bessie was greatly 
astonished and shocked upon receiving the fol¬ 
lowing letter from her sister, a very different 
letter from the one recorded above: 

“O Bessie, my dear sister, this is the saddest 
letter that I know I shall ever have to write to 
you. It did seem to me so good a thing to be 
able to do what I was doing; to be able with 
my voice, that precious gift which Providence 
had bestowed upon me, to do good in the world, 
and at the same time to be earning a living for 
me and mine. How shall I tell you—the 
plain truth is, my sweet sister, that I am about 
to lose that voice. I am threatened with heart 
failure—oh, the doctor has some big scientific 
word for it all; but it just means this, that my 


i 


56 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


heart is giving out under the strain and mental 
pressure. He gave me no hope of ever being able 
to sing again—it was not necessary, for I knew 
better than he that my voice was gone. Last 
Sunday night (it seems an age, and this is only 
Thursday), as I was singing my last song to that 
immense audience, which seemed to sit spellbound 
under the sound of my voice, through which I 
was endeavoring to pour out to them the inex¬ 
pressible love and faith and hope which flooded 
my own soul—suddenly I had a strange sensation 
at my heart—I faltered and could go no further. 
Fortunately for me the organist seemed to under¬ 
stand; I sat down and he finished with a grand 
postlude. I slipped quietly out the back door, 
so as to avoid the necessity of speaking or ex¬ 
plaining to anyone. Uncle Abe was there waiting 
for me, as he always was at night. 

“I felt very queerly and badly as I came home 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


57 


on the car, and all during that night. The next 
day I still felt very badly and weak; and not 
being able to sit up or hardly able to move, I 
sent for the doctor—I can not write more now— 
pray for me, Bessie, it is dark—so dark to me 
I can not see a glimmer of light.” 

Caroline was not able to sit up any more after 
that fateful Sunday night. Uncle Abe and Aunt 
Dinah, out in the kitchen, talked over this last 
and most awful stroke of Providence—“Whut 
de Lawd done sent on us all,” said Dinah; “I 
tells yer, Abe, I been a lookin’ fur Miss Ca’line’s 
heart to gib out fur er long time—she sing so 
much.” 

“Now t , Dinah, you and me hab got hit all on 
us, and we is jist bleeged to take kere ob Mars 
Robert’s chile, an dese pore little gran’chillun ob 
his’n—don’t yer know dat I hab rocked Miss 
Ca’line to sleep in dese ole black arms a many a 


58 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


time; an’ we must make dese here fokes roun’ 
er bout heare know dat she’s quality—dat’s whut 
us is got to do.” 

“Dat we will,” said Dinah. “Shaw, Abe, de 
fokes roun’ heare in dis city don’t know nuffin’ 
bout quality—if dey could a seen Mars Robert’s 
place wid all dem big magnoly trees an’ dem 
great big oaks, when we’uns wus all dare, den 
dey would seen some quality shore—whut yer 
doin’ in dare, Abe, a foolin’ aroun in dat ole 
black box fur?” as Uncle Abe went into their 
bed-room, and began to rummage in an old dingy 
box, in which he kept his treasures. 

“I tells yer, Dinah, but hit am er big secret.” 

“I guess hit am er bout dat paper whut Mars 
Robert gib yer jis buffore he fell dead,” said 
Dinah. 

“Cartainly, but how you knows he gib me 

dat?” 


Uncle Abe’s Miss Ca line 


59 


“Abe, you think you knows anything whut 
Dinah don’t knows—go way, nigger, you makes 
me laugh—I seed him when he gib hit to yer; 
an’ I knows whar you hid it too,” said Dinah, 
in a mysterious manner. 

“Well, Dinah, as you knows already taint no 
use fur me to tell yer, but I’se gwine to take dat 
money whut my young Mistiss gibbed me twenty 
year ago, whut I bin er hidin’ er way in dis ole 
box, wid all de udder things whut I ’members 
my friends by—now I’m er gwine to take dis 
money an’ git me er ticket so as I kin go right 
back to de ole home, an’ go down into dat back 
woods dare by de ribber; an’ den dig up dat 
paper outen dat hole whar I buried hit—whut 
Mars Robert gibbed me, an’ tole me ef I ebber 
see Miss Ca’line hab more trubble dan she could 
bar to gib hit to her—but I ’clare to de gracious, 
dat I done clean furgit it till last night, an’ while 


6o 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


I wus er thinkin’ in de night time hit all corned 
right back to me.” 

“Dat is prezactly right,” said Dinah; “go dis 
blessed night; but whut I gwine to tell Miss 
Ca’line—ef she knowed you wus er gwine down 
dare, hit mought make her er hole heap wuss—I 
knows whut I’ll tell her dough: I’ll say you hab 
gone to bed wid er chill, an’ is all kivered up, an’ 
is a shakin’ de bed clothes powerfully.” 

“Now, Dinah, I’se er gwine right dis minit. 
You hug Frank an’ Charlie fur me an’ kiss de 
baby—you knows if dat train wus to run offen 
de track, an’ I wus to be kilt, it would a’most 
bust my heart to think I nebber tole dem pore 
little chillun good-bye; an’ now, Dinah, gal, 
good-bye. Kiss yer Abe, case I bin er lubin’ you 
ebber since dat fust time I tuck yer in my arms. 
Don’t yer members how Mars Robert an’ young 
Mistiss would hab us down to de big house to 


\ 



Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


61 


git married; and young Mistiss said I must lub 
you, Dinah, an’ nebber to think bout any udder 
nigger—an’ I nebber has; ef I wus to I believes 
you’d ketch up wid me shore.” 

‘‘Oh! go long Abe—course you aint thinked 
bout no udder nigger; case I’d bust dat nigger’s 
head in two wid a skillit, inside ob two minits.” 

So Uncle Abe, after giving Aunt Dinah an 
affectionate embrace, slipped quietly out of the 
little house by the back way, and then went 
straight to the station. 


62 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


CHAPTER III 

After buying his ticket and boarding the train, 
he began to study and plan, in his slow simple 
way, how he could best carry out his purpose. 
The train reached his home town about dark, 
fortunately for him, as he did not wish anyone 
to see him. He left the station unobserved by 
anyone, and took the street leading out to 
“Magnolia Place”. His heart beat a little rapidly, 
as he recognized the familiar scenes. It was not 
very long till he came in sight of the dearly 
remembered place. There were the great big 
iron gates swung between massive stone pillars, 
the beautiful pebbled driveway gleaming in the 
early twilight, which was lighted up by the 
mellow rays of the new moon. There were the 
queenly magnolias, with their broad glistening 


Uncle Abe s Miss Caline 


63 


leaves; the giant oaks and elms, standing here 
and there, like sentinels, as it were, to ward off 
evil—as if the evil had not already entered. 

Uncle Abe climbed dexterously over the low 
iron fence, cautiously stole through the grounds, 
went round to the side of the house; and as he 
saw the light streaming out of the low library 
window, stealthily drew near and peeped in,— 
there, sitting by the table, writing, was Mr. 
Graves. Uncle Abe’s heart beat so fast he could 
hardly get his breath, but he stood perfectly still 
for several minutes, and glanced all about the 
room. It looked just exactly like it did when 
his master was living, only there sat Mr. Graves 
in his master’s chair and over the high, colonial 
mantel hung Mr. Graves’ picture—a life-size 
one, and by the side of it—what did Uncle Abe 
see, was it possible he had dared to hang “Miss 
Ca’line’s” picture close to his! 


6 4 


Uncle Abe’s Miss Caline 


“I wish to de gracious I had er brick, I’d bust 
his head shore fur dat.” 

Just then a pebble slipped under Uncle Abe’s 
foot, causing a crunching sound, which startled 
Mr. Graves. He leaped to the window, but by 
the time he looked out Uncle Abe was a fleeing 
shadow in the darkness beyond. Uncle Abe ran 
as fast as he could till he came to the stable, then 
stopped; for he felt that he just must take a 
peep at the horses—there they all were (he knew 
them every one by name), even to Mars Robert’s 
famous trotter; but there was one, a new one, 
he had never seen, over there in the new stall 
nearest the door. He just longed to go in, and 
make himself known; and pat them on the neck, 
and hold a little horse-talk with them. He was 
sure they would know him, for hadn’t he raised 
most of them from colts? Discretion, however, 
won out over sentiment, so he passed on slowly 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


65 


around the corner and met old Jube; who, rec¬ 
ognizing him instantly, came bounding toward 
him, barking and wagging his tail, saying as 
plainly as a dog could say, “I’m so glad to see 
you.” 

“Hush, Jube, I knows you’s mightly glad; 
but I is on a still hunt to-night, Jube; but you 
kin come go wid me. You’ll keep me company 
and keep me from er feelin’ dat de hants is after 
me.” 

Uncle Abe and Jube quietly stole out through 
the back lot, then on down into the deep wood. 
As he entered the forest it was too dark to see 
very far, so Uncle Abe would stop now and then 
to strike a match, and to look all around and 
about himself to be sure he was in the right path. 
Going on down towards the river, with Jube 
following close at his heels, he finally came to a 
large cottonwood tree on the banks overhanging 


66 


Uncle Abes Miss Ca line 


the water. Here he stopped and looked carefully 
about him. The young moon still shed a pale 
light from the western sky, and the stars up 
above shone calmly down and twinkled in the 
dark waters below. A gentle wind floated out 
on the night air, and shook the branches of the 
trees, then stirred the tall grass which had grown 
so rank and thick on the margin of the water 
during the last weeks of the departing summer. 
A big owl not far away let out his doleful hoot; 
while a little screech owl from a nearby tree-top 
kept up its wailing cry, which sent a cold shiver 
up and down Abe’s spinal column. 

“O Lordy, if I don’t git out frum heare quick 
I’se a dead nigger—come heare Jube”; here Un¬ 
cle Abe whistled softly to the dog, though Jube 
was already pressing his shaggy coat against his 
master’s legs, “I ’clare to gracious I did furgit 
to bring dat spade whut I saw er standin’ agin 


Uncle Abes Miss Ca line 


67 


de stable door—but nebber mind, heare am er 
crooked stick dat will do jist as well.” So saying, 
he knelt down on his knees and began to dig in 
the ground at the root of the tree with the stick. 
He stopped and taking out his knife, sharpened 
the end of the stick, and then fell to digging 
again with all his might—directly, thrusting his 
hand down into the hole and clearing away the 
dirt, he struck something hard—“dar hit am, 
dat’s de bottle,” he said to himself, as he grabbed 
it up. Just then something cold and damp 
touched him on the back of the neck. He sprang 
up with a yell that sent the echoes flying out on 
the still night air; then struck out through the 
woods as fast as he could, with Jube running 
after him; not for a moment slackening his pace 
till he came out into the open behind the woods- 
lot—here he halted and took in a long breath, 
for he was about winded. 


68 


Uncle Abes Miss Caline 


“Now, I wonder whut make me so skeered— 
whut a fool I do be—I ’clare to de gracious dat 
wus nuffin but ole Jube er smellin’ an’ er rubbin' 
his nose agin my back. But I shore is glad I 
done got dis heare bottle—whew! I wouldn’t 
go down in dem woods agin not fur dis paper, 
even ef it wus to save Miss Ca’line’s life. Uh! 
wouldn’t Dinah er laughed ef she could er seen 
me er runnin’ like de paterole his sef wus after 
me—but I always did believe dat de hants trab- 
bled er roun’ in de night time, down in dem 
woods. Den I don’t knows whut dis piece ob 
paper is er bout. It mought not be nuffin any¬ 
ways, an’ den me done bin to all dis trubble; 
but I’ll go right straight to Mars Linden wid hit 
—yere, I’d better go to-night—yere, I specks I 
ought to go dis minit.” 

So saying, he reached down and broke the 
bottle on a rock at his feet, then taking out the 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


69 


paper carefully, examined it very closely to see 
if it was in good condition, and just the same as 
it was when he buried it. After a very close 
scrutiny for several minutes he seemed to be per¬ 
fectly satisfied; then taking off his old ragged 
hat and putting the paper into the crown, placed 
the hat back tightly on his kinky head, and 
whistling to Jube to follow, started off at a smart 
pace. 

Yes, Judge Linden was at home. “Would he 
see ole Abe on ’portant bizness,” that was the 
word Uncle Abe sent in. 

“Ob course, he would,” said Sambo, as he 
returned to conduct him into Judge Linden’s 
private study, which was situated at the back of 
the house, at the extreme end of the very broad 
and long hall, that divided the entire mansion 
into two equal parts. 

Judge Linden looked about as he did two years 


70 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


before, only his hair was a little grayer, and the 
lines of care and thought had cut for themselves 
deeper tracks about the bronze-white face. The 
massive brow was still as broad and as lofty in 
its powerful and calm intellectuality; and the 
firm pressure of the lips, with the slight droop 
at the corners of the mouth (ever indicative of 
despondency) was just the same. 

“Well, Uncle Abe, how are you, and how are 
Miss Caroline and the children?” 

“I’se alright; but Miss Ca’line, she shore am 
in er bad way. Aint yer heerd nuffin bout her 
er bein’ mighty sick, an’ a’most ready to die?” 

“O, Abe, you don’t tell me so,” said Judge 
Linden. 

“Yas-sah, Mars Linden, I does tell you dat; 
fur dat is de shore ’nough trufe. She hab bin 
a’most dead fur er week, an’ de doctor do say dat 
she can’t sing no more; and don’t none ob us 


JJncle Abe's Miss Caline 


71 


knows whut is er gwine to become ob us all, 
the chilun an’ Miss Ca’line, an’ me an’ Dinah— 
but Mars Linden, I is got sumpin right heare,” 
said Abe, lowering his voice and looking all 
around, as if he feared the very walls had ears 
and might hear what he had to say. “Here’s 
sumpin whut Mars Robert gib me jist buffore he 
fell dead, an’ he tole me to keep hit, an’ ef I 
ebber see Miss Ca’line stressed a’most to death 
to gib hit to her. I think it shorely is time now, 
fur she is done gibbed up; and’ my ’pinion is, an’ 
dats whut Dinah think too, dat she aint er gwine 
to stay down in dis world much longer.” 

“Let me see what it is, Abe.” 

He handed the paper to the judge, who opening 
it, read and examined it very closely. A gleam 
of triumph lighted up his face ; he sprang up and 
walked about the room in great excitement. 

“Ah! Abe, old fellow, we’ve got him—I knew 


72 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


he was a rascal, have been knowing it for years; 
but he has always covered up his rascality so 
cleverly, that it has been impossible for me to 
place my finger upon it, or to prove it in any 
way. Abe, we’ve got him this time, no doubt 
about it—we have got the wily scoundrel rounded 
up with this for sure—for shame! to think he 
would actually steal, and steal from a woman and 
children at that. Do you have any idea what this 
paper is about, Abe?” said Judge Linden. 

“No-sah,” said Abe, with his eyes rolling up 
and almost starting out of his head, and his 
mouth wide open in utter amazement at Judge 
Linden. 

“Well, it is a statement in Mr. Graves’ own 
handwriting to the effect that the mortgage had 
been paid off in full to him by your master 
several years before he died; and not one dollar 
did Colonel Harmon owe him at his death. It 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


73 


seems your master entertained some faint suspi¬ 
cion of his lawyer along towards the last, hence 
this paper. I have always thought it strange that 
a man of Colonel Harmon’s ability and high 
sense of honor and loyalty to his family, would 
have left his affairs in such a state.” He said 
this last more to himself than to Uncle Abe. 
“Well, Abe, there is no doubt about it now; we 
have got this rascal rounded up at last.” 

“O Lawd! I is so glad. I bin er prayin’ I tell 
yer, I nebber is prayed so hard fur noboddy in 
all my life as I hab bin er prayin’ fur Miss 
Ca’line. I axed the good Lawd fur to please 
hab mercy on her, an’ to please gib her back de 
ole home. I tells yer, Mars Linden, I feels a’most 
like shoutin’, fur de good Lawd hab heered pore 
ole black Abe’s prayer—bless de Lawd! Bless 
de Lawd!” 

Ah, Abe, you have stumbled, in your child- 


74 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca’line 


like, simple faith, upon the profoundest truth, 
and have laid hold on the mightiest help that can 
come to mortal man in his hour of need; and the 
greatest of earth’s potentates, and her wisest sons 
would do well if they too would follow in your 
humble footsteps. 

It was late the next day, when Uncle Abe 
arrived in the city. When he reached the little 
cottage, he went round the back way, and as he 
entered the kitchen, Dinah, turning round and 
catching sight of him, threw up her hands in 
astonishment and joy. 

“O Abe! yore face tells hit all, I jist knows 
hit am alright.” 

“Yas, Dinah, gal—bless de Lawd—dat paper 
gibs eberything right back to Miss Ca’line and 
Miss Bessie, jist like hit wus, de ole home, an’ 
eberything. Dat rascal (fur dat’s whut Mars 
Linden called him) done got ketched dis time 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


75 


fur shore, an’ I speck he’ll land in de pen, whar 
he cartainly do belong.” 

“Praise de Lawd,” said Aunt Dinah, catching 
Uncle Abe around the neck and attempting to 
dance round the room with him. “O Abe, is it 
de trufe fur shore? Hit am jist too good to be 
dat way; an’ Abe, is all ob us er gwine back to 
de ole place? I ’clare to gracious, Abe, my heart 
mos’ bust, it feels so big—I is so glad.” 

“How Miss Ca’line an’ dem chillun?” said 
Uncle Abe. 

“Dat so, I done forgit um, I feel so tickled. 
De chillun is all right, but Miss Ca’line is mighty 
low down. She habn’t et er bite, nor lift her 
hand, nor raise her head offen dat piller sence 
you bin gone. I had to tell a great big whopper 
when she axed about yer. Go on in dar, Abe, 
an’ splain everything to her—dat’ll fix her up 
quicker dan anything—’tis ’stonishin’ how when 


76 


Uncle Abe's Miss Cciline 


hope come back to de heart an’ go to singin’, dat 
de body will pick right up ergin.” 

So Abe went into his mistress’ room, and go¬ 
ing up softly to the bed, with his old hat tucked 
up under his arm, and making his most respect¬ 
ful and deferential bow, said: 

“Miss Ca’line, I done bin down to de ole 
home, an’ hab come back wid de bestist news 
whut ebber wus.” 

“O Uncle Abe! is that you?” said Caroline, 
opening her eyes and looking at Abe,—“why! 
Uncle Abe, I thought you were sick.” 

She looked so spent and so white as she lay 
on her pillow, that he thought it was a blessed 
thing that he could bring her good news; or 
maybe all news would be the same to her in a 
little while. 

“Tell me, my good, faithful Abe, what it is; 
for I see and feel that you have wonderful things 
to tell me.” 


Uncle Abe's Aliss Co'line 


77 


Then he began at the beginning and told her 
all—about the paper and how he had hid it down 
in the wood, close by the side of the river, and 
finding it; and how he had gone with it to 
Judge Linden, and all that he had told him. 

She clasped her hands in a frenzy of joy and 
thanksgiving. 

“O Uncle Abe, I’ll get well now, no doubt 
about it,” and she turned her face to the wall 
and wept tears of joy. How ashamed she was 
to have doubted God’s goodness, as she knew she 
had been doing. What black despair she had 
allowed herself to fall into; and how bitter and 
fierce the rebellion which she had permitted to 
swell up in her soul. How penitent she was 
now, and in what absolute humility did she 
plead for forgiveness. 

“Dinah! Aunt Dinah! bring my clothes and 


78 


Uncle Abe’s Miss Ca’line 


let me get up; I must write to Bessie—I must 
tell her the good news.” 

“Now, Miss Ca’line, please honey, don’t you 
go an’ do too much, all uv er suddent, case yer 
mought over did yoreself; den you’d hab er 
back-set shore.” 

“Oh! I am feeling all right—don’t you worry 
now, Aunt Dinah, for fortune and all good things 
are coming back our way.” 

She dressed herself hurriedly and began her 
letter immediately to her sister. 

“Dear Bessie, my heart is too full to tell you 
how the great dark horror has been lifted—how 
the dear old home and all that belonged to our 
father has been restored to us. When I think of 
the black despair that filled my heart, when I 
last wrote to you, I can hardly believe that it is 
I, really I, myself, who am writing this letter 
now, so full of hope and gladness. O Bessie, it 


JJncle Abe’s Miss Caline 


79 


is an awful thing to feel forsaken of God, as I 
have felt—to feel that somehow, in the black 
darkness, when I had tried so hard to hold on to 
H is hand, in a moment I slipped, as it were, and 
let go His hand (or, God let go of mine, I could 
not tell which), and I was left alone, alone in 
the wide, wild darkness, with no one to help; 
and those who were dependent upon me were 
looking to me, and I had nothing to give. I 
feel like hiding my head in shame that I ever 
doubted, that I ever murmured—O Bessie, I 
can’t tell you, when I was told that I could sing 
no more, how black my heart was with rebellion. 
Of course I can feel thankful now. Oh! yes, it 
is very easy for me to be good, when I can see 
the way I am taking, and everything is coming 
my way. 

“Do you know, my dear sister, there are many, 
many women in this fair world of ours, that are 


8o 


Uncle Abes Miss Ca line 


so shielded and protected they are never tempted; 
and then they think their equanimity of disposi¬ 
tion and kindness of heart are due to their no¬ 
bility of character and intrinsic goodness—ah! 
foolish women, once let the cold winds of mis¬ 
fortune blow upon them, then see how quickly 
they shrivel up and go down before its icy breath. 
We will all go home in a few days; and then 
my sweet sister must come to me. I am so 
hurried and so full of the joy of getting myself 
and mine together, so as to leave the city right 
away, and go back to the dear old home again, 
that I can hardly compose myself to write to 
you. Lovingly, Caroline. ,, 

It was the latter part of October, that holy 
month of the year (holy to Caroline), that she 
and all that she held dear were finally ensconced 
in the old home once again. The leaves were 
not yet fallen from the great tall trees she loved 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


81 


so well; but the autumnal winds were beginning 
to shake them down in occasional showers, where 
they went tumbling about in crimson and golden 
heaps upon the ground; then were lifted again 
and went floating away on the breeze to find 
another stopping place beside the stable, where 
Uncle Abe was industriously rubbing down the 
horses in great delight. Oh, the leaves—the 
golden, crimson, and russet brown leaves—such 
bright, happy, laughing, joyous leaves—what do 
they say? thought Caroline, as she walked about 
under the trees. 

But the leaves were silent, as they drifted all 
about her in a golden shower; and her heart was 
full of emotions too deep to put into words. 
Thanksgivings rose to her lips. Hope, radiant 
hope, once again sat enthroned firmly within; 
and holy aspirations welled up in her soul. But 
there was a faint feeling of sadness down deep 


82 


JJncle Abes Miss C a line 


in her heart, a strange yearning, a pathos of emo¬ 
tion, that troubled her, as she realized that it 
was there. 

“Why should I feel thus, since Providence has 
restored unto me all my possessions, and every¬ 
thing is coming back to me—why this little tiny 
ache down deep in my heart? Am I not thank¬ 
ful? Am I not happy in my beautiful surround¬ 
ings, and my little household? Am I not strong 
enough to fill up my days with my duty well 
done, to be the best mother God ever made to 
these precious children He hath bestowed upon 
me? Has not that awful burden of providing 
for my own, and of being alone and among 
strangers been lifted from my shoulders? Am I 
yearning for something else or for some one else 
—is it possible that I am forgetting the father 
of my children, while he sleeps far away in his 
lonely grave on the Pacific coast, near to the 
setting sun?” 


Uncle Abe’s Miss Ca’line 


83 


Thus she mused in a pensive way, as she 
strolled about under the trees, and with her foot¬ 
steps rustled the leaves which lay scattered all 
around in little heaps of yellow and red. What 
a beautiful picture she made thus, with that holy 
expression of yearning tenderness about her 
mouth, and the thought of the sublime mystery 
of human life resting upon her brow. So thought 
Judge Linden, as he came through the park to 
meet her. 


8 4 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


CHAPTER IV 

They sat down under the trees, just where 
Caroline had sat two years before, and he told 
her and explained to her all the steps he had 
taken in restoring her property to her; and how 
he had dealt with Mr. Graves. 

“He has promised me to leave the country 
and never to return,” said the judge; “I thought 
that was the best course to pursue—you see we 
do not care for publicity. How I detest that 
man! When I think what he has done, and 
what he is, I can hardly keep from strangling 
him.” 

“But, Judge Linden, that would not do any 
good; and to take life always haunts one, though 
it were justifiable,” said Caroline. 

“Yes, that is true,” answered the judge, mus¬ 
ingly. 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


85 


“Come, we will go into the house and see the 
children,” returned Caroline. 

“And let me hear the songs I love to hear you 
sing—I think that will soothe these awful feel¬ 
ings of revenge I feel against that old scoundrel.” 

The children were just as glad to see him as 
their mother was, and Caroline sang for him all 
the sweet songs he wished her to sing; and then 
would have him to stay for the evening meal, 
which Dinah announced by the tinkling of a 
small silver bell, that had stood for nearly forty 
years on the massive old side-board, in the old- 
fashioned dining room. 

Ah, Dinah was happy again, and Uncle Abe 
was happy; and the children were as gay and 
bright as crickets; but there was still that in¬ 
definable something in Caroline’s heart, which was 
not sadness; yet (as the poet has said) “resembled 
sorrow only as the mist resembles the rain”. 


86 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


That night as the Judge sat late by his fire¬ 
side, his thoughts were something in this wise, 
“a noble young woman without doubt, a fine 
woman in every sense of the word—but then, 
her heart is given entirely to her children; or, 
maybe it lies buried still in that lonely grave so 
far away—ah, well, but my heart is dead and 
those sweet feelings of love and hope and youth 
lie withered and lifeless—ah, they have turned 
to dust and ashes long ago. Can they be revived 
again? Can there be a resurrection of those sweet 
and tender emotions of the heart? I once saw a 
little dried-up ball, the desert rose I believe it 
was called, when dropped into the water, begin 
to expand and to unfold before my very eyes, 
until it blossomed into a beautiful flower once 
again—I wonder—but, no, that part of my life 
is dead”—but for all that, the Judge gave a 
little sigh, and turned restlessly upon his pillow 
throughout the weary hours of the night. 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


87 


A year has passed; we see Caroline in her 
beauty and loveliness developing into all that is 
noble and good. She takes great delight in her 
old home, beautifying it and adorning it. Bessie, 
now come back from New York, is a charming 

companion for her; and her children are her 

* 

constant care and delight. She reads to them and 
talks to them, and rides about the quiet country 
roads with them; never for one moment losing 
sight of the solemn fact that she is laying the 
foundation of character that shall last long after 
she has passed away. Aside from the great desire 
of being the most faithful and devoted of moth¬ 
ers, Caroline found there were other emotions, 
and half-awakened longings within the depths of 
her being, which she felt utterly unable to ac¬ 
count for, or to overcome, try as she would. It 
seemed that fight and struggle in the city, w T hich 


88 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


she had made so heroically, had stirred some 
emotion in her; which erstwhile had been sleep¬ 
ing, but which now when once awakened, like 
“Banquo’s Ghost” would not be downed. 

As she would rock her baby to sleep, and 
w r ould look down at the baby face so like her 
own, she would think to herself, “O Cappie, 
darling, what is it that disturbs your mother so? 
O my sw T eet baby, lie closely within your moth¬ 
er’s arms, hold tight with your tiny fingers to 
your mother’s hand for mama needs you, O my 
darling child, just as much as you need her. 
Your little helplessness holds her close and makes 
her strong to do her duty, and makes her strong 
with faith in God.” 

• ••••• 

“My dear Bessie:— 

“So you are so happy in your marriage, and all 
the glad days, that are filling up your life just 


Uncle Abes Miss Caline 


89 


now, are a true fulfilment of your girlish dreams. 
So marriage really means to you a union of two 
hearts, and souls, with one aim and one purpose. 
Yes, Bessie, that is what marriage should always 
mean. I miss you more than I can tell; the few 
months I had you to myself again spoiled me; 
but, my darling sister, know that my heart goes 
out in profound thankfulness for your happiness. 
Of course you know there is a little feeling of 
being put aside for this new and more com¬ 
prehensive love; but I hope not for a moment 
will I let this little feeling of selfishness mar my 
great satisfaction in your new-found joy; I will 
not say this new love is truer, or deeper; for the 
love between two sisters, as companionable as we 
were, is to me as beautiful and as true as any 
could be. But this new love is certainly an all- 
pervading and an all-compelling passion, which 
expects to get just as much back in return for 


90 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line • 


all that is given out. Marriage certainly is the 
most delicate, the most mysterious of unions; and 
the most powerfully conducive of happiness in 
its awfully close proximity of companionship of 
two human beings; but if this companionship be 
not properly adjusted it is equally conducive of 
great suffering and anguish, and even destruc¬ 
tion—but enough of this. Do you know I feel so 
restless and so burdened at times here in my 
home, where I have so longed to be, where all 
that is sweet and sacred in the past, clusters 
about me; and should inspire me to high and 
calm living—I think it so strange, this restless¬ 
ness, this indefinable longing. I have my chil¬ 
dren and my dear old darkies with me; and many 
noble friends, who vie with each other in showing 
their attentions and kindnesses to me. I go to 
my church, I take great interest in it, I keep 
up with all its various branches of work; I don’t 


Uncle Abe s Miss Ca line 


9i 


know how many missionary societies, and charity 
organizations I am not a member of—and gene¬ 
rally the president or secretary; and I give to the 
poor and the needy as I have the opportunity, 
and yet—what is it?—at times I feel like I am 
being smothered or asphyxiated. My one happi¬ 
ness and peace of mind is being with my children 
and being alone. 

“When I read of the great things being done 
in the world by our great men, and women too, 
as for that matter, I feel like dashing into the 
arena, and making myself felt for some great and 
noble purpose—I feel like I would love to leave 
‘footprints on the sands of time’ as well as these. 
And yet, ambition in a woman has always been 
decried, other than to be a true mother and a 
faithful wife. Why should I have a higher am¬ 
bition than to be the best and most profound of 
mothers—but Bessie, that is my highest and 


92 


JJncle Abes Miss C a line 


holiest aim, I am absolutely sure. I know to be 
a good mother (I am nobody’s wife now)—the 
best mother the sun ever shone upon is my most 
earnest and holiest desire, to lay the foundation 
of true worth and character in the youthful 
minds of Charlie and Frank; to live the beautiful 
things I would have little Cappie to be, as she 
grows up into womanhood, so she may absorb 
them as naturally as the flowers do the sunshine 
—this I know is the desire of my heart, but this 
does not satisfy the longings of my soul. 

“My voice is coming back to me. Sometimes 
I think I should like to go back to the city for a 
short while, and sing once again. My teacher 
has been writing to me recently, and asks me so 
earnestly to come back for ten days to a musical 
festival that will take place soon. He is anxious 
to present me in a series of recitals. Judge 
Linden, as you know, was elected Supreme Judge 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca*line 


93 


of the State. He is not here now; indeed, he 
has not been at home for months. You know 
his duties require that he shall spend most of his 
time at the capital, so I never see him. 

“With the deepest and truest love for my little 
sister, 

I am your devoted Caroline.” 

After writing this letter Caroline made up her 
mind that she would accept her teacher’s invita¬ 
tion. She decided to go the following week, and 
made all her arrangements to that end. She 
engaged a distant relative, a cousin, who was a 
spinster of uncertain age, to come and remain 
with the children; and to superintend Uncle Abe 
and Aunt Dinah in the general management of 
things. But she felt she could have trusted her 
children and all that she had in the hands of her 
old negroes; feeling assured that they would have 
been faultlessly true to the trust. 


94 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


The night after Caroline had departed on her 
journey, Aunt Dinah and Uncle Abe were out 
in the kitchen, talking over things in general, and 
“Miss Ca’line” in particular. 

“I tells yer, Abe, I feels kinder ’tressed ’bout 
Miss Ca’line; ’pears like to me she feels oneasy 
and stirred up in her mind.” 

“Well, whut make her feel dat way?—aint 
she de finest lady in all dis land?” 

“Oh! I knows dat,” returned Dinah. 

“An’ den aint she got dese heare chillun! an’ 
sich like dey aint none in all dis country.” 

“Oh! I knows dat,” again returned Dinah, 
with some slight impatience in her voice. • 

“Den aint she got de finest plantation an’ 
house fur miles aroun’,” continued Uncle Abe; 
“an’ don’t eberybody look up to her, an’ think 
dare nebber wus sich er fine lady er livin’ ?” 


Uncle Abe’s Miss Ca line 


95 


‘'Oh! hush Abe—I knows all dat; dat aint 
nuffin’ if de heart am all stirred up an’ er longin’ 
fur sumpin. You knows whut I sorter spicions, 
Abe; an’ I bin er spicion dat fur de longest kind 
ob time; hit’s dis, Abe, but I must not say hit 
out loud, case I don’t want nobody but you to 
heare it, I believe hit’s er shore fact dat Miss 
Ca’line am done gone an’ felled in lub wid 
somebody.” 

“O Lawdy! you mighty nigh takes my bref 
away—you knows dat Miss Ca’line aint er gwine 
to lub nobody agin; an’ her heart done buried 
down deep in dat grabe wid Mars Ames, way 
out yonder somewhars on de udder side uv de 
world.” 

“Yere, I knows bit wus out dare, but hit am 
coming back; an’ den aint she a widdy, an’ 
habn’t er widdy got er right to lub agin—Abe, 
you does seem to hab mougbty little gumption 
inside dat black woolly cocanut uv your’n.” 


96 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


“I don’t knows, Dinah, whedder I got any 
sense or not, but hit do ’pear like to me dat 
young Mistiss said to me when you an’ me got 
married dat I wus to lub yer always, Dinah, 
jist de same, ef you wus sick or well, or wus 
dead.” 

“O Lawdy. I knows I neber kin teach dis 
ole nigger any sense,” said Dinah, as she swayed 
back and forth in throes of laughter, “don’t yer 
knows, nigger, dat yer young Mistess neber said 
no sich uv er thing as to lub me when I be dead ? 
Don’t yer knows ef I wus to be dead, you would 
hab de most particlar right to marry agin, any 
udder nigger you wanted to; dat is, ob course, 
ef you could git dat udder nigger to hab yer.” 

“No, Dinah, wife,” said Uncle Abe, in a slow, 
hesitating manner, “I don’t think I ebber would 
ax er nudder nigger to hab me—I believes you’d 
a’most hant me, ef I wus to.” 


Uncle Abe’s Miss Caline 


97 


“Well, I specks I mought, Abe; so I Vise yer, 
ef I wus to drap off, you jist stay whar I leaves 
yer, an don’t go trabblin’ roun’ after any ob dese 
heare triflin’, no-count niggers roun’ heare.” 
Aunt Dinah had gained the ascendancy over 
Uncle Abe’s mind, during their courting days; 
and had held to it with considerable tenacity 
throughout the years of married felicity; thinking 
it was just as well for the happiness of both 
parties, that her husband should stand a little 
in awe of her superior knowledge. 

They were very careful about everything in 
Caroline’s absence, looking forward to her sweet 
words of approval when she should return—for 
they just lived in her approbation, and strove 
ever to please her. Caroline was making a bril¬ 
liant success in the city; her instructor was ra¬ 
diant over his pupil. They worked together over 


98 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


each program with tireless energy, and she had 
already given two of the recitals and had come 
to the last one. As she came out on the platform 
in front of that vast audience, and slowly looked 
out over them, then into their eager, expectant 
faces, she felt keyed up to her most supreme 
effort. Judge Linden, sitting far back in the 
rear, felt himself thrill with delight as she began 
her first song. Her voice was beautiful indeed 
this evening, and she sang with the perfect free¬ 
dom and the abandonment of the child of genius, 
giving full play to the matchless power of her 
own distinctive personality in song. At first she 
sang songs of the fireside, of domestic happiness, 
and peace and love; and so softly and so sweetly 
would the low thrilling notes of her voice beseech 
them to be happy there, they would almost w T eep 
for very joy. Then her song w T ould be of the 
battle of the world, of the strenuous life, a veri- 


Uncle Abe’s Miss Ca line 


99 


table war cry to conquer or die in the midst of 
the fight; then her voice would indeed rise into 
its full strength and majesty, as to so thrill them 
with courage and enthusiasm that they could 
hardly help shouting back to her, as they wildly 
applauded, they longed to die in the midst of the 
struggle. Then again she would sing of desolate 
hearts, of withered hopes, and broken dreams that 
never come true—here her voice would become 
exceedingly tender and caressing in its low sweet 
cadences, sweeter far than an aeolian harp, fanned 
by the gentlest evening breezes ; while their heart¬ 
strings would be stirred with heavenly harmonies, 
as though an angel had stirred them, bidding 
them to rise and hope again. 

As she came to the finale of her program, and 
turned to bow her thanks to the enthusiastic 
applause of her audience, she caught a glimpse 
of Judge Linden standing in the extreme rear of 


100 


Uncle Abes Miss Caline 


the building; but ere she was prepared to leave 
the auditorium, there he was standing in front 
of her, looking so glad and seemingly proud of 
her; yet there was a faint expression of dis¬ 
approbation upon his face. He insisted on going 
to her hotel with her. Caroline was in a state 
of almost nervous collapse from the intensity of 
the effort she had put forth; but still felt exceed¬ 
ingly happy, as we always do when we accom¬ 
plish our most sublime victory. 

“Have I not done something to-night to be 
proud of, and to be thankful for, Judge Linden; 
don’t you think I have comforted human hearts 
this night, and elevated their minds from thoughts 
of sordid care to higher things?” 

“Oh, yes, there is no doubt about that,” he 
said, as they seated themselves in the parlor of 
the hotel. “I am sure you have done great good, 
but don’t you think it spoils a woman, just a 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


IOI 


little bit, to have an ambition outside of her 
home? Don’t you think to be wife and mother 
should be broad enough for any woman?” As he 
said this he looked down at her so earnestly, that 
Caroline felt a little confused. 

“Oh, I have heard that old argument about 
a woman’s realm being within the home, but 
still, can’t a woman be true to her destiny, and 
yet develop the God-given talent, which she 
knows she possesses ? I never forget my children, 
never. They are the very life of my being—yet 
there are times when I feel like I just must 
make myself felt in the world with this voice of 
mine; and do you know, as I listen to the low 
sad wail of humanity’s sorrow, I am conscious of 
the power I possess to sing them back into hope 
and peace and happiness again, thereby lifting 
them up out of the mire of sordid worldliness, 
God-ward and heavenward.” 


102 


JJncle Abe's Miss Caline 


“Yes, I know you are right; that is a noble 
ambition you have; and it is true when you sing 
—I can speak for myself—that all the burden 
and care of life seems to be lifted from my 
shoulders for the time, and I feel that I am 
being transported on ‘gossamer wings, till I thrill 
to the music of heavenly things’—what is it!— 
what do you see!” as Caroline threw up her 
hands and gave a faint scream— 

“Look! Look there!” she said, as she pointed 
behind him to the door. 

He sprang up and looked all about him, but 
could see no one. 

“Oh! he’s gone now; but I saw the evil face 
of Mr. Graves peering in at the doorway, with 
the most sinister expression, as plain as I see you 
—only for a moment and then was gone.” 

Judge Linden went out immediately into the 
corridor and walked up and down, then walked 


Uncle Abe s Miss Ca line 


103 


all around the rotunda, and into the cafe, then 
came back and went down the corridor to the 
back stairway and looked down, then went to 
the elevator, and questioned the boy closely; but 
still he could neither see nor hear of anyone who 
even resembled Mr. Graves. 

“I guess you must have been mistaken, Miss 
Caroline,” he said, “for there is certainly no one 
around.” 

“Oh! I know I wasn’t,” said Caroline, “and 
his face wore such a hideous expression of hate 
that it almost freezes my blood to think of it.” 

“It seems, however, you were mistaken, for 
there is no one around at all—do you leave in 
the morning?” said Judge Linden, trying to lead 
her mind from the cause of her agitation. 

“Yes, to-morrow morning, and my train leaves 
at seven,” said she; “so I’ll have to be up with 
the birds.” 


104 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


“Well, we must break up our pleasant talk, 
for this little lady must get some sleep after her 
strenuous work and big success.” 

He went to the elevator with her, but seemed 
loath to leave her. As he bade her good-night, 
he said, “I’ll be up in the morning in time to 
breakfast with you, and go with you to the 
station.” 

But he was not up in the morning, nor the 
following morning, nor for many mornings; and 
would there ever be a morning when he would 
be up again?—for in the wee small hours of the 
night a strange sleep did come upon him. There! 
someone is standing just outside of his room; he 
draws a chair up in front of the door—what is 
he doing? What is that he is reaching down 
through the partially open transom? Is that a 
doctor’s cone or funnel, on the end of that long 
cane, he is waving over the Judge’s head. The 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


105 


Judge stirs, becomes restless; gently he takes it 
away; then, as he is quiet, again holds it just 
above his face; again the Judge stirs, again he 
withdraws the holder. The Judge seems to re¬ 
alize in some mysterious way that evil is near; 
for he apparently struggles to rouse himself from 
his troubled sleep, but fails, and finally sinks 
down into a heavy slumber. The shadow at the 
transom, now grown bolder, presses the cone¬ 
like funnel down close over his mouth and nos¬ 
trils—ah! how heavily the Judge is sleeping now, 
how deep that repose, how long will it last at 
this rate, before it will end in that other sleep, 
so deep that none can ever waken him more? 
Just a few more minutes and the deed will be 
done; and the Judge will never even know by 
what instrumentality he entered into that mys¬ 
terious beyond, whence none hath e’er returned. 


io6 


Uncle Abe’s Miss Ca line 


CHAPTER V 

Hist! there is a sound of distant footsteps; 
someone is coming. With incredible swiftness 
the “shade” at the transom withdraws the reed, 
shaking the cone off on the other side of the 
door, then on the end he inserts a long, keen 
something that gleams fearfully in the dim light. 
Instantly, but with sure aim, he thrusts the reed 
again through the transom; but in his nervous 
haste, for the footsteps were drawing nearer, ere 
he plunged the dagger into the heart of the 
prostrate and totally unconscious Judge, his arm 
slipped to one side, so the murderous weapon 
passed below the fatal mark, and entered the side 
an inch or more below the heart, passing in 
between the lower ribs. Then with the swift¬ 
ness and stealthiness of the beast of prey, the 


Uncle Abe’s Miss Ca line 


107 


murderer sprang down from his perilous position 
and fled down the corridor, turning a corner just 
as the night watchman approached Judge Lin¬ 
den’s door. 

“What is this! Here is a distinct smell of 
chloroform—here is a chair in front of this 
door,” exclaimed the watchman. He stops and 
taking out his pass-key, unlocks the door, and 
enters the room, which is almost stifling with the 
fumes of chloroform; picked up the cone, where 
it had fallen. He sees the Judge lying in a 
stupor, breathing heavily, while a thin stream of 
blood is flowing from his side—rings the bell 
furiously, and shouts for help. In a minute or 
two a half dozen bell boys and others come run¬ 
ning up. There is great excitement for awhile— 
the doctors and the police are summoned im¬ 
mediately; and they take the Judge to the hos¬ 
pital, and do all that is in the knowledge of the 


io8 Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 

medical profession to restore him to life—that 
life, which seemed to hang so waveringly on the 
merest thread of a chance throughout the re¬ 
maining hours of the night. But finally, as the 
first faint flush of dawn heralded the coming day, 
the Judge, slowly—oh, so slowly—almost imper¬ 
ceptibly at first, but surely began to struggle back 
to life again. 

The wound in his side proved to be a very 
dangerous one, and his life hung in the balance 
for weeks. The physicians and nurses vied with 
each other in their careful attendance upon him. 
To be forced to lie idle and quiet all the day 
long in his narrow white bed, to have to be 
waited upon, to feel shut in from all the activi¬ 
ties of life, was very irritating and galling to the 
Judge. During this enforced calm, strange 
thoughts would come to him, weird phantasies 
would flit through his brain. Then again tender 


Uncle Abe’s Miss Ca line 


109 


recollections—a mother’s face would smile upon 
him from out the hazy luminous picture of his 
boyhood days; and her precious voice would float 
adown the intervening years, soothing his trou¬ 
bled spirit. 

He could see himself later on, a strong young 
man, an enthusiastic young man, with hope and 
faith and courage burning brightly on the altar 
of his heart. He sees a young girl’s face, in its 
winsome beauty, shining out at him; then he sees 
this same girlish face, as the face of his fair 
young bride. Then, in his memory pictures, 
there is a great black void, and out of the black 
darkness there floats out on the midnight winds, 
one long piercing scream of agony—the Judge 
turns his face into his pillow and, no one being 
near, sobs almost aloud. But of course he would 
not have done this had he not been sick, for no 
strong man ever allows himself to weep, ah, no— 


no 


Uncle Abes Miss Ca line 


at least, if he does, he takes particular pains to 
let no one know it; and never admits it, even to 
himself. But still we know what we know, and 
we know that the Judge was weeping. 

Caroline had risen very early the following 
morning, in view of her departure, and was very 
much surprised at not finding Judge Linden 
waiting for her at the breakfast table. She did 
not notice the paper at her side, but ate her 
breakfast hurriedly, and with considerable cha¬ 
grin. She did hear one of the waiters say some¬ 
thing about a dreadful murder being committed 
in the night, but paid no attention. She had gone 
to the station alone and was half way home, 
when she chanced to buy a paper. Glancing 
idly over it, was horrified when she saw an ac¬ 
count of the attack upon the Judge; her heart 
gave one throb of anguish—“oh! if he should 
die, how blank the world would be to me.” 


Uncle Abe’s Miss Cciline 


111 


Early in the morning of the day they were 
looking for Caroline home, as Uncle Abe and 
Aunt Dinah were breakfasting, to their great 
delight, off the kitchen table, Uncle Abe said, 
“I tells yer, Dinah, I dreamed er turrible dream 
las’ night.” 

“Whut wus hit er bout?” said Aunt Dinah. 

“I tells yer, Dinah, I dreamed ’bout snakes, de 
wustest sort; an’ I bin er feelin’ bad ebber since 
I got outen de bed. Dey wus bad snakes; an’ 
hit did seem dat dey wus all a crawlin’ roun’ 
Mars Linden; an’ one awful pizon lookin’ one 
jumped over, an’ bit him an’ den tried to bite 
Miss Ca’line—I tells yer, Dinah, dat trubble’s 
in de air. Whenebber I goes to er dreamin’ 
’bout snakes I al’ays feels bad, case I knows de 
debil is er trablin roun’; an’ like er rorin’ liun, 
an’ dare aint no tellin’ whar dat ole scoundrel 
gwine t’ strike.” 


I 12 


Uncle Abe’s Aliss Ca line 


After many weeks they brought Judge Linden 
home, and Caroline, in her great anxiety, found 
out the secret of her heart. 

In the early morning she would gather flowers 
from her spacious greenhouses and send them to 
him by Uncle Abe; then later in the day Frank 
and little Charlie would be the bearer of some of 
Aunt Dinah’s “rale Southern cookin’.” 

She would rock and sing Cappie to sleep at 
night—though she would almost stagger under 
her weight, as she laid her down in her little 
white bed—and into these songs she would weave 
all sorts of melodies of love and hope, and dreams 
of a happiness in the future, for Caroline had 
begun now to look forward into the future with 
hope. Her baby would look up into her face, 
with such a wondering expression at her mother’s 
bright, radiant eyes, and flushed cheeks. 

“Mama, you’s pitty,” said the little tot, “so 


Uncle Abe’s Miss Ca line 


113 

pitty, I love you, mama dear”; and the soft little 
hand would pat the mother’s cheek, and those 
deep brown eyes of Cappie’s would look into her 
mother’s gray ones with such an infantile look of 
adoration and wonder. 

“Cappie, my baby, is my heart wandering from 
you, dear child—O baby, baby, can’t mama love 
you and some one else too?” 


Uncle Abe s Miss Ca line 


114 


CHAPTER VI 

At last they said Judge Linden was out of 
danger, and able to sit up. So Caroline took 
herself one fine morning, in the early spring, 
across the town to make the Judge a social visit. 
She had all three of her children with her, 
Frank and Charlie and little Cappie—for she 
was determined to be loyal, and kept most jeal¬ 
ous watch over her heart for fear she might be 
failing in her love and tender care for them. 
As she walked along the pleasant country road, 
lined on either side with trees with their leaves 
swelling and bursting into bud, and the song¬ 
birds all singing and mating about her, while 
others were building their tiny nests up in the 
tree tops, and cooing as they worked, she felt 
there were other birds singing, and they were 


JJncle Abe's Miss Caline 


ii 5 

singing down deep in her heart. And these birds 
of hope and love and life were making sweet 
melody that kept time to the accompaniment of 
the spring’s happy choristers without. 

Two little wrens were hopping about on a 
lower limb as she passed by, and twittering and 
chirping to each other in soft bird notes. She 
stopped a moment to watch them—they were 
such happy little birds—and still the birds down 
deep in her heart kept singing, and keeping time 
to the music without. Everything about her 
seemed instinctive with life and joy: the sky 
above with its white fleecy clouds; the morning 
breeze, as it murmured through the leaves, and 
fanned her cheek and lifted the dark waves of 
hair from her brow; the springing grass at her 
feet; the whir of the bees as they darted by; the 
glint of the early butterfly’s wing, together with 
the continued singing of the birds. 


116 Uncle Abe’s Miss Ca line 

She seemed to Judge Linden the expression of 
all that was lovely, as she came in with her 
children grouped about her, like a beautiful rose 
in a cluster of buds. The children soon scam¬ 
pered out, and left her alone with the Judge. 
He thought he had so much to say—and yet how 
to say it! He was as much embarrassed as a 
country school-boy, when he has to make his 
first Friday afternoon speech. 

“Miss Caroline,” he said, “I am so grateful 
to you for all your many kindnesses to me during 
my long illness and convalescence.” 

“Oh; if I have done anything, or added one 
particle of comfort to your dreary shut-in days 
I am so happy.” 

“But, Miss Caroline, you have helped me more 
than I ever can tell you, more than I ever will 
be able to make you understand—why, child 
(pardon me, but you seem almost a child to me) 


Uncle Abe’s Miss Ca line 


117 

you have kept alive my faith in God. Your 
undying hope, and sublime faith in the face of 
overwhelming difficulties, your true womanliness, 
your holy and perfect ideal of motherhood (than 
which there is nothing more divine), have revived 
a little spark of faith amidst the cold dull ashes 
of burnt-out hopes.” 

“I am afraid you overrate me,” said Caroline, 
with her face flushing brightly with the happiness 
his words conveyed. 

“Caroline, you can not know how my heart 
has been broken and all its love and faith in 
human nature has been ruthlessly torn and rent 
asunder in a moment, as it were, and my life 
left like a bruised thing, with broken wings lying 
helpless at my feet, with no power to lift itself 
more.” 

As he said this, he looked so noble and grand 
to Caroline that she could not help thanking God 


118 Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 

for the great treasure of his love, which she 
knew she possessed. 

“So, Caroline, you’ll give me my answer 
soon.” 

“You haven’t asked me anything yet,” said 
Caroline, with a coy little smile. 

“I’ll ask you now, then,” said he; but the 
children coming in just then put a stop to their 
very interesting conversation. Caroline was glad 
to put on their things, bid good-bye to the Judge, 
and take her departure, out again through the 
bright sunshine of the early spring morning. 

In the happy month of May they were mar¬ 
ried ; when nature had put on her festal garments 
and had sowed far and wide, o’er hill and dale, 
her brightest and earliest flowers; while the birds 
and the bees made vocal the day, and the scent 
of the fresh upturned earth filled the nostrils 
with delight and a sense of the coming harvests. 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


119 

Their lives united, after many sorrows and 
weird experiences, developed into a higher and 
holier union than they had dared hope; for it is 
more often than otherwise that the second union 
is a happier one than the first. It seems the 
chastened heart, having a broader horizon, is cap¬ 
able of a more exalted type of companionship. 
Yes, happy, thrice happy was Caroline; and the 
Judge felt something like a school-boy in the 
exuberance of his joyous feelings. He unfolded 
his past life to her by degrees and in the light of 
her sympathy and love it took on a softer and 
less lurid hue: yet there was something which 
he withheld from her, of which she was vaguely 
conscious. 

One morning, it must have been about four or 
five months after their marriage, she told him 
that she had received requests for other song 
recitals from a distant city; and she said, “I 


120 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


think I’ll go; I am just longing to sing again, 
I am feeling all pent up in my heart and I must 
let off some of this extra amount of energy. 
Then, O Judge Linden, I feel I cannot be happy 
all to myself; I must help somebody, I must go 
out and sing. I have that yearning of soul to 
comfort, to soothe, to uplift and sustain”; as 
she said this, she looked up into his face, with 
such an expression of compassion upon her noble 
brow, that she seemed to be almost transfigured 
before him. 

“But, Caroline, I do not think it best for you 
to go. I do not want you to sing in public any 
more.” 

“Why! why! I thought that was understood 
before we married;” and she looked at him with 
a face void of every other emotion except that of 
utter astonishment. 

“But, my dear, I have serious reasons why I 
do not want you to sing.” 


Uncle Abe’s Miss Ca’line 


I2l 


“I must sing, I* can’t give up my voice,” said 
Caroline with intense vehemence. 

“You can’t go with my consent, my darling,” 
said the Judge in a firm, but low sad tone of 
voice. 

“Well, then, I’ll go without it,” she retorted, 
with a rising feeling of indignation and anger 
filling her heart; and as she raised her eyes and 
looked full at her husband, she saw such a look 
of agony and horror for a moment pass over his 
face, as to make her heart almost stand still in 
her bosom. 

“Oh, Caroline! Caroline! for mercy sake don’t 
talk that way—I beg you, I plead with you don’t 
—if you love your own soul—” he turned, and 
without another word or even looking back, went 
out at the door, leaving Caroline standing alone 
in the middle of the room. 


122 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


She threw herself into a chair, and wept aloud 
in an utter abandonment of grief. “What have 
I done?—oh! what have I done?” she said, “but 
I can’t give up my voice; it’s the best, the very 
best, that’s in me—it is God-given, I can’t give 
it up—O mercy! mercy!” She trembled all over 
like an aspen leaf. “What shall I do—what 
shall I do?—I can’t give up my husband’s love.” 

She was so distressed she felt sick all over; just 
then she heard the children calling her, and hur¬ 
ried up stairs to get them ready for their school; 
while Aunt Dinah out in the kitchen was singing 
“How firm er foundation yer saints ob de Lawd,” 
in such a lusty, triumphant way, as to be heard 
all the way up the stairs. 

“ ‘How firm a foundation’, yes that was true,” 
thought Caroline, and as Aunt Dinah continued 
to sing:—‘When fru dey deep waters I calls dee 
to go, de ribbers uv waters shall not overflow'— 



Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


123 


“Yea, Lord, they shall not overflow me.” 

After sending the children to school and hav¬ 
ing Aunt Dinah to take little Cappie down into 
the kitchen with her, where she dearly loved to 
be, Caroline threw herself down upon her bed in 
almost despair. Judge Linden sent a polite but 
cool little note that he would not be home for 
lunch. She kept her room all day; and lay with 
her head pressed close upon her pillow, face 
downwards, in complete prostration to her woe. 
She wept and prayed and sought long and ear¬ 
nestly to find a way out of her trouble. Finally 
she made up her mind to give up her singing— 
“but why? oh! why does he care so? and why 
did that awful look of despair and horror come 
into his face—yes, I’ll give it up—I’ll give it up 
—but it is the best, the very best, the highest and 
holiest something that is in me—must I give it 


124 


Uncle Abes Miss C a line 


But that night when her husband returned, she 
went up to him, and softly and tenderly laying 
both of her hands upon his broad shoulders, said: 

“Judge Linden, your love is dearer to me 
than anything in this world, and that we should 
live in peace and harmony is of the most vital 
importance to us both, so I will give up my 
singing—but I warn you that the outcome of it 
. all will not be peace or happiness to either of 
us.” 

“I am sure it is best for you, Caroline, I am 
sure it is best,” and he patted her gently on the 
cheek. “I have a very serious reason—a very 
great one—well, I’ll tell you about it sometime.” 

So there was no mjore said about it. But after 
this there was a cloud, a something, which began 
to grow between them. At first it was just a 
little speck, not nearly so large as a man’s hand; 
but it grew and grew, and there lay upon Caro- 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


125 


line’s heart a burden that would not lift, but 
ever pressed heavier as the days went by. She 
loved him—ah, she loved him; but the love 
which exists between husband and wife is of such 
delicate fiber, that if on either side there is felt 
the slightest restraint, or if the man should 
choose to exercise his masculine authority, and 
place an embargo upon his wife’s actions, even in 
the slightest degree, immediately the perfect one¬ 
ness of their union is marred, and instead of 
developing into a beautiful harmony, it goes jang¬ 
ling out of tune into miserable discord. Caro¬ 
line bore it bravely and so did her husband. Both 
their hearts ached sorely, neither one knowing 
exactly why. They both longed for that perfect 
understanding and sympathetic communion of 
thought they had felt in the first months of their 
marriage. 

Judge Linden had to be away at the capital a 


126 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


great portion of the time holding his court; and 
Caroline finally became so nervous she thought 
best to consult a physician. He told her that her 
trouble was mental; wanted to know if she had 
not something preying upon her mind. He gave 
her a tonic, which she was very careful to take 
according to directions, but it did no good. Her 
husband was greatly troubled about her, but felt 
utterly helpless to do anything to relieve her. 

Caroline’s condition grew worse day by day. 
She never mentioned the great sacrifice she had 
made of her one glorious talent, never touched 
the piano, never sang a single note—she just 
couldn’t. It was not stubbornness, nor an angry 
feeling of rebellion, like a child would feel when 
told it could not do this or that; though she felt 
that her husband had dealt with her something 
in that way. She felt all the time as if some 
mighty force was pent up within her, which not 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


127 


being given an outlet, was tearing and crushing, 
and devouring her most vital self. Then occa¬ 
sionally she felt the old peculiar sensation at her 
heart; and a slight enlargement made its appear¬ 
ance at her throat and with it an uncomfortable 
pressure, and a smothering sensation would so 
depress her as to throw her at times almost into 
hysterics. Caroline, the strong, the brave Caro¬ 
line, to be thus overcome! 

“I will not—I will not be so weak—I will get 
a better grip upon myself,” she would say to 
herself. 

But instead of growing stronger she felt that 
she was getting weaker every day. One day in 
the early fall, when the breezes blew cool, and the 
goldenrods were turning their yellow fuzz into 
brown; and the leaves were streaked here and 
there with crimson and gold by the first breath 
of autumn; and in the cool winds could be sensed 


128 


Uncle Abe’s Aliss Caline 


a hint of the coming winter; Aunt Dinah, on 
coming into her mistress’ room up-stairs to ques¬ 
tion her about some new culinary procedure, to 
her great astonishment and horror, found Caro¬ 
line lying on the couch in almost a dying con¬ 
dition. 

“Dinah,” she whispered, “send for the doctor,” 
was all she could say. 

There was great consternation in the house¬ 
hold. Frank and Charlie came running home 
from school, and rushing up to their mother’s 
room (as they always did at first), were dis¬ 
tressed overwhelmingly, as only children can be 
when mother is sick. Their little boyish hearts 
were just frozen with fear and dread, and as 
Frank took her cold lifeless hands into his, a 
shudder of mortal terror ran through his frame. 
She could only just whisper, “don’t worry, I’ll 
be all right directly.” 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


129 


But she was not better directly and throughout 
the night grew alarmingly worse. It seemed the 
“grim monster” was sure of a victim this time; 
and it was apparently a question of a few hours 
at best, for life’s vital spark was burning so low 
as to be only a smoldering ember. 

In the early dawn Judge Linden arrived, and 
as he entered Caroline’s room and looked down 
upon her, lying so profoundly still upon her pil¬ 
lows, he sent up a prayer to his Creator, the first 
one which had gone from his soul in many years. 
Ah, it is well, that he should call upon God and 
look above for help, for that pulse is very weak 
and flutters strangely at the wrist, and all human 
aid has about done its utmost. How utterly 
powerless he felt as he kept his weary watch with 
the death angel hovering near, and ever nearer, 
beside the unconscious form of his noble Caro¬ 
line, throughout the wee small hours of the night. 


130 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


How white her face shone in the shaded light— 
how cold her broad calm brow, already wet with 
the dew-damp of death. How mournfully the 
wind murmured and sighed without, rustling the 
leaves of the trees with a ghostly shiver, rattling 
and shaking the doors and windows, as if some 
strange and unearthly visitor just without were 
rapping for entrance. 

As the first faint rays of the coming day began 
to steal tremblingly over the earth, scattering the 
darkness which lay like a pall without on the 
landscape, then slipping in at the low window 
and lighting up the haggard face of Judge 
Linden, the tide turned, and the life-blood began 
to flow shoreward once more. Thanksgivings 
rose to the Judge’s lips. How utterly prostrated 
he felt, both in body and in mind, now that the 
tension was loosened and his agonizing watch 
was over. He sank in complete exhaustion upon 
the couch by the side of Caroline’s bed. 


Uncle Abes Miss Caline 


I 3 i 


CHAPTER VII 

It was many days before Caroline was far 
enough along in her convalescence to take notice 
of things about her, and feel an interest in her 
children and husband again. One evening, 
Judge Linden was sitting beside her—it was in 
the twilight, ere the lights had been turned on. 
As he took one of her thin, white hands in both 
of his strong ones, he said: 

“Caroline, I want to tell you a little story, 
the story of an impulsive but noble-hearted boy 
It has been many years ago, Caroline, when this 
young boy was sent off to college. Yes, he was 
a boy, and nothing but a boy; though he con¬ 
sidered himself a young man, quite grown-up. 
He had been taught and guided all right at home, 
but at college he fell in with a bad wild set, and 


132 


Uncle Abe s Miss Caline 


became the wildest of the wild. While there he 
met, on a visit to a fellow student, a beautiful 
young girl, sister to his friend. Another one of 
the boys was also invited to go on this visit as 
well as himself. It is needless for me to tell you 
that they both fell madly in love with this young 
lady. The young man, whose story I am telling 
you, was the favored one of the two suitors, and 
nothing would do but he must have this young 
girl to marry him secretly—a most rash and dan¬ 
gerous step for any young couple to take; but he 
was hot headed and impulsive, as I have already 
stated. This visit had lasted two months (for he 
was spending his vacation with his friend), when 
the time drew near that the young husband 
should return to his school. They were in con¬ 
siderable distress of mind as to what course to 
pursue. They finally decided, however, that it 
would be best for all parties concerned to keep 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


133 


their secret till the school days were over, which 
would be only one more year. His girl-wife was 
not only very beautiful, but very talented as 
well; having already won distinction as a vocalist, 
although quite young to have so superb a voice. 

“Now the rejected suitor, whose love this 
young lady had spurned with considerable haugh¬ 
tiness, permitted himself to become very angry; 
and, being a mongrel cur, swore he would have 
his revenge upon both of them. How or when, 
or in what way, he persuaded her to believe her 
boy-husband (who was now returned to college) 
was false and untrue to her has never been made 
known, it has always been shrouded in mystery. 
Sufficient to say, that he did succeed in making 
her believe that she was a spurned and forsaken 
wife. In her great grief and consternation, she 
decided to go North and connect herself with 
some musical company, and sing in grand opera. 


134 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


Just before starting on this tour, she wrote a 
letter to her husband, stating in very plain terms, 
that she did not love him, and never wanted to 
look upon his face again. There was no ex¬ 
planation whatever, and of course it came like 
a thunder clap to the young husband. Now an¬ 
other strange part about the letter was, that she 
went on to say, that if there were another person 
in the world, whom she loathed and hated more 
than her false husband, that one was the re¬ 
jected suitor. 

“The young man immediately upon the receipt 
of this letter left the college secretly, boarded the 
train and started for this northern city. I re¬ 
gret to state there was murder in his heart, but 
remember, he was very young and very angry, 
and the provocation was very great—are you 
listening, Caroline ?” as she had closed her eyes, 
but was trembling all over with excitement. 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


135 


“His rival, he felt certain would be there (he 
had never returned to college at all) and he 
greatly feared he would find him in company with 
his wife, regardless of the plain statement she 
had made in the letter. On arriving in the city, 
he having already armed himself before leaving 
the college, started for the hotel, where he had 
been informed this company, with whom his wife 
had connected herself, was located. As he sought 
for her in her room, his rival came out at the 
door. Quicker than a flash the young husband 
drew his pistol, but before he could fire the other 
sprang back inside the room, saying at the same 
time, ‘Quick, Annie—quick! the balcony—don’t 
you see he is going to kill you.’ She rushed 
through the window, out on the high balcony, 
then with one long piercing scream, threw herself 
down headlong onto the rock pavement below. 

“Oh, Caroline, Caroline, I can still hear that 



136 


XJncle Abe's Miss Caline 


awful wail and can still see that mangled, broken 
form, as it lay all of a heap on the stone pave¬ 
ment—for that young husband was myself, and 
that rejected suitor none other than Hiram 
Graves. I would have killed him then and there, 
but he swore* on his knees to me that he had 
never breathed ought to her other than he 
should; and that he had only gone to her room 
to deliver to her a message from the manager of 
the company. Now you know the full story of 
my wretched youth; now you know—oh, well—” 

He stopped, gave a long heavy sigh, was silent 
for a long time, as if buried in profound thought ; 
then laying her hand tenderly down by her side, 
arose and left the room. 

“Poor fellow, poor fellow,” mused Caroline, 
as she looked after him with infinite compassion 
in her dark gray eyes. 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


137 


The days and weeks sped away and Caroline 
finally regained her strength. While it was never 
directly mentioned between them, yet they both 
were fully aware of the fact that her spell with 
her heart and nerves had been caused by self¬ 
repression. Judge Linden insisted there were to 
be no more restrictions placed upon her actions; 
and she must feel free to sing wherever and 
whenever she pleased. 

Perfect harmony being restored between these 
two noble hearts, their lives flowed on evenly and 
smoothly in their respective channels. She was 
his inspiration, his conscience, so he often said— 
and what man has ever attained his fullest devel¬ 
opment unaided by the love and companionship 
of some woman. It may be his wife, most fre¬ 
quently is, or it may be a mother or sister; but 
still the masculine mind needs the coddling and 
fostering touch of the feminine to be able to come 


138 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


into the full fruition of that of which it is most 
sublimely capable. It seems that woman lives 
closer to the angels than man and catches a gleam 
now and then of their snowy wings, touching a 
note occasionally in her own profoundly mysteri¬ 
ous being, which seems to stir all the heavenly 
harmonies above. Blessed is the woman that ex¬ 
alts, and thrice blessed the man who has the 
privilege of walking along by her side. 

• ••••• 

It was in December, when the winds had long 
since shaken the leaves from the trees, and the 
hickory nuts and acorns lay in little heaps here 
and there upon the ground; and the squirrels, 
having laid up a goodly store of these nuts, were 
frisking in and about their holes, and all the 
woods lay bare and brown in the cold still em¬ 
brace of winter, when a strange visitor made his 
appearance and knocked for entrance into this 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


139 


home. A visitor, above all others to be the least 
desired; indeed a visitor, above all other visitors, 
to be the most dreaded; a visitor of so gloomy a 
visage as to strike terror to the beholder, and 
send a chill along the life current of his being, 
freezing the very marrow in his bones. Yet 
ofttimes this visitor hath brought a mighty calm 
and a profound peace. 

What a solemn, a sublime thing is death. With 
what dignity he clothes even the lowliest of his 
victims. Uncle Abe lay dying—dear, faithful, 
noble, but simple minded Uncle Abe—Uncle Abe, 
who had never known anything but to serve and 
obey, who had never known anything else but to 
trust others and to love them. Now it was so 
easy for him just to trust his Lord, and pass 
over the dark river—the river over which we 
must all sooner or later pass. 

“Dinah, will yer come closeter, so as I kin 


140 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


jist feel you is er near me, Dinah. I can’t see 
yer, Dinah, de Lawd done blowed out bofe de 
lights in my head. De way am dark, but you 
hold onto yore Abe’s hand, Dinah, an’ don’t yer 
let loose till I tech on de udder side—is you still 
dare, Dinah, gal?” 

“Yes, Abe,” said Dinah. 

“I thought you wus gone—oh, Dinah, I see de 
brightest light—I knows ’tis de angels.” 

Judge Linden and Caroline were standing back 
near the door, and behind them were Frank and 
Charlie with their little faces white with terror. 

“Dinah,” called the broken voice of Uncle Abe, 
“whar is Miss Ca’line an’ de chillun?” 

“Dey am all right heare, Abe.” 

“Tell urn all good-bye fur me, I aint got bref 
to talk out—oh, Dinah, let go my hand; de 
angels is done come fur me—I’m gwine home 
wid um.” Saying this he pointed straight up; 


Uncle Abe's Miss Ca line 


141 

then taking one long, shuddering breath, sank 
back upon his pillow dead. Just then the golden 
rays of the setting sun struck through the west¬ 
ern window, casting a halo of light around the 
still, dark face, lighting up the room with a soft, 
lambent glow—and who shall dare say that the 
holy angels came not down the sunlit passage to 
bear his trusting spirit to the mansions above, 
which God hath prepared for all His trusting 
children, regardless of their color, their race, their 
position or their creed. 

They buried Uncle Abe the next day at the 
setting of the sun, just as the golden gates of the 
West were flung wide open to receive their king, 
out of which there poured billowy waves of light, 
trailing clouds of crimson far up to the zenith, 
and bathing the landscape all about and even the 
little cemetery in a warm glow of rosy light. 

Ah, Uncle Abe, sleep—sleep on and sleep well 


142 


Uncle Abe's Miss Caline 


—you have as goodly a hope of the resurrection 
as the proudest of earth’s potentates; and some 
day this hope shall blossom into full fruition. It 
may be after many winters (and doubtless will 
be) have piled their chilling snows about thy 
grave; and have beaten their driving rains and 
slanting sleets upon thy unresisting head—but 
that day shall come, and none can stay its progress. 


END 

















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